Maid of the Manor
by Just Look in the Mirror
Summary: "Are you afraid of me, Miss Lourdes?" he chuckled darkly enough to weaken her knees and make her palms practically drip with sweat. "Absolutely not," she lied. Solone Lourdes takes up the open position for housekeeping at the Malfoy Manor, but does not realize exactly what danger she's gotten herself into until it's already too late.
1. A Biased Interview

Summary: Solone Lourdes' maid work in the Malfoy Manor proves to build more distress than what she had initially dreamed of. Her employer, Lucius Malfoy, is harsh, biased and sinister, but just how much can the small, hardly menacing twenty-six-year old Latin-American witch do to lighten the murky core of this Pure-blooded wizard? Saving the neglected House-Elf Dobby from further neglect winds up a mission as well, one that bears potential to harm her in turn.

COS-centric. AU.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the Malfoys for that matter. All rights to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. (I do own Solone Lourdes).

Rated M for language, violence and mature themes.

* * *

_**Chapter 1: A Biased Interview**_

The peaking steel gateway ahead the extended gravel trail sent both sparks of elation and chills of apprehension down Miss Solone Lourdes' spine, her scheduled interview for the housekeeping position at Malfoy Manor depriving her of tranquility and minimizing her confidence.

She was a Muggle-born Spanish-American with shoulder-length, thick and curly black hair, almond-shaped dark brown eyes, tan skin and a petite frame. She had a slight accent that was soft and melodious to the ears of many, sounding as if she were a visitor from the sensuous country of Spain itself. She grew up in the vast countryside of New Mexico, just outside of the humid Mexican border, and her family owned a farm. Her mother was a History teacher for a local high school and her father sold off the vegetables born from their crops.

Solone got her admittance letter to Salem's Academy for Witches and Warlocks via a stray, raggedy brunet owl on their doorstep shortly after her eleventh birthday. Her family was baffled at the announcement, as was she, but she was also brimmed with excitement. All her life she had felt different from the other schoolchildren in many ways, and now arrived the potential explanation for her mysterious telekinetic tendencies and ability to heat up a cup of tea with the touch of her index finger.

Solone had moved to England shortly after graduating from the Academy, after having no luck in landing an occupation in the Magical Field in her location in the States. She had heard of the job offerings in London, and one that caught her interest was nursing for an infirmary. Upon moving, she reckoned that she could begin her career in St. Mungo's or Wononon's Facility of Magical Healing. Unfortunately, she discovered that both of her sought interning habitats were booked by the time she managed to settle in across the pond, and they would be until further notice. Hope slipped out of reach when neither of the clinics got back in touch with her in the months that followed.

Eventually, she ended up doing maid's work in various places, most commonly in a low-rate hotel or a private estate. She earned little wherever she went, and was virtually bound to her small and run-down flat. However, one particular morning in the late summer of 1992, she looked through that day's issue of the Daily Prophet to see an ad on the second-to last page that called for the need of a housekeeper for the Malfoy Manor. Pay would by far surpass what she'd ever received in her array of jobs, so she was more than eager to take up the open position. There was but a single condition for this placement, that being the witch must be pure-blooded. This had ruffled some feathers on the young woman's part, but she reasoned that perhaps she could do some bluffing when she met this Mr. Lucius Malfoy employer, and tell him that she is of a pureblood status if questioned. At this point, she was desperate for work after suddenly getting laid off from her last stint at the Pepperidge Inn.

She wrote a letter to the manor describing her availability for the opening, telling of what hours she could work, how she could clean and cook meals for the family of three and do whatever else was required of them. She attached the envelope to her elderly owl Isla's leg, and sent her off from the balcony. The bird would return just two days later with a reply from Mr. Malfoy telling her to meet him at the Manor located in Wiltshire that Friday at ten a.m sharp for further discussion.

She squealed happily at the acceptation, tempted to celebrate with a night out in town with her cousin Esmeralda who lived nearby, but restricted herself with the reminder that money was tight, but if this meeting with the estate's owner went smoothly enough, she wouldn't be so poor for long!

Her breathing was uneven and her pulse was on the brink of wild. On the manor's patio she nervously stood after ringing the doorbell. She wore her best and most formal black silk dress that she had worn in her teenage years for family get-togethers and parties back in New Mexico, her feet clad in an old pair of black mary janes. Her favorite Revlon lipstick adorned her lips and plenty of mascara was applied to her already dark and thick lashes. Her hair was wound up into as neat a bun as she could manage, the hairband nearly snapping at just two twists, and she struggled to fasten the hairpins in place to keep the more hyper curls from springing out, not that her possible boss-to-be would likely mind, but she didn't want to take that petty risk. This was just what she needed right now, and she was going to do all she could to impress the high-class, professional, aristocratic businessman.

A small and frail elf answered the door, dressed in nothing but a dirty rag-like potato sack covered in holes and stains. The maid gasped at the sight, startled. Was this creature forced to don such sparse clothing? Actually, the rag that just hung loosely over his shoulders and stopped at his ankles didn't qualify as real clothing at all. This worried her, but she decided not to give it too much thought, for she had more crucial things to worry about at the moment.

"Miss Solone Lourdes? 'Tis a pleasure to meet you," spoke the short creature with a bow and a shrill voice, really flattering the witch before him.

"Hello, what is your name?" she asked, bending down a little ways to shake his hand and present him with a kind smile.

"D-Dobby, madam. So kind it is of you to address me with a hello...Dobby is rarely addressed to as such…"

His feeble comment made Solone exceedingly wary. "You live here, yes?" she asked.

"Y-yes, ma'am. Dobby works under the orders of the Malfoy family! To them Dobby serves and obliges to their every demand for the generations to come."

Now concern really surfaced for his sake. "You are not...being held here against your will, are you?"

Gulping and massaging his too-slender forearm, he mumbled, "Technically speaking, madam, I am required to-"

"DOBBY!" a male voice boomed from a distance down the main entrance. The spindly creature went notably stiff and a dreadful expression overtook his features as fast-approaching footsteps could be heard along with the swift thumping of a walking stick. Solone peered past the opened door to see a tall man sporting a black trenchcoat that was long enough to billow above the polished floor as he strode. His silky blond hair ran all the way down his back, and his light gray eyes were intense and bore hypothetical daggers into the confines of the skittish elf at the threshold.

"Did I not tell you to merely open the door and allow Miss Lourdes in?" he snapped once in their proximity.

"Yes—N-no! No, sir! You did indeed inform Dobby as such!" Dobby sputtered back, wincing while he spoke.

"Then why is it that you decided to hold a conversation with her, when I rather specifically told you to lead her into my office without so much as a peep out of your mouth?!"

"D-D-Dobby is terribly sorry, sir!"

"Really, it is alright," Solone interjected with a laugh, in an attempt to lighten the situation up. "He is quite a gentleman. In fact, he ought to be rewarded for his greetings."

A cold set of glaring eyes locked onto the soft brown hues of the young lady who still stood outside the doorway on the patio. Those same eyes raked over what nicely placed curves she had as well as what ample cheekbones and pert breasts she owned. He kept his gawking brief for obvious reasons. He had an interview to get out of the way that morning. There was no more time to waste.

A crooked simper stretched out on Mr. Malfoy's face. "Run along now, Dobby." He spat his name out as if it were a mouthful of goblin piss. "I'll deal with you later," he finished with a mutter, sending a fresh chill down the woman's spine.

As the neglected elf scampered off, Solone was presented with a pale, masculine hand. "I'm awful sorry about that, Miss Lourdes. Come inside, won't you?"

She nodded, placing her considerably smaller and tanner hand in his to shake. Stepping in, she was taken aback at the view of the spacious main entrance. The foyer was dimly lit and sumptuously decorated, a magnificent forest-green carpet stretching over the stone floor. Portraits aligned the corridor in which the two currently stood, the faces on them being mostly pale and bearing blond or black hair.

"Right this way," he spoke amiably. His tone was of very high class to the witch who followed him down the enormous and drafty room. To her, the interior as well as the exterior of the estate was gorgeous, but if one characteristic could alter at her will, she would definitely add some windows to allow more natural light into the home, for it was gloomily dark in here.

"I'd like to thank you for responding to my letter, Mr. Mal-"

"Please," he cut in, "feel free to call me Lucius."

"Oh, alright, Lucius," she replied sheepishly, still nerve-wracked for their upcoming discussion. They stopped before the seventh door down to the right of the home's main hallway. Lucius turned the transparent crystalline doorknob that Solone believed to be molded of pure diamond. This man must have been wealthier than she had imagined prior.

"After you," he said, stepping aside to provide leeway as he held the door open.

Blushing, she wandered into the office. Two well-cushioned chairs sat before a clean and organized desk holding a quill dipped into a small pewter bottle brimmed with ink, some parchment and a stack of papers. There was a single window to the right side, though not a glimpse of sunlight had shone into the room since the deep violet curtains were still closed. The room itself was not too large, maybe the size of an average classroom. There was a fireplace to the left side of the room, a large armchair placed before it along with a throw rug. A broad portrait depicting the front of the manor hung on a wall above a table where a candle holder with multiple prongs containing five lit candle sticks and a lucid glass flask at its side were. The air was stuffier than what Solone was comfortable with, but she dared not say a word about it. Though, would a bit of fresh air or sun have hurt the man?

"Would you care for a drink before we begin? Tea? Water? Merlot?" he asked as she sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk.

"Oh, no, thank you," she replied in something slightly more audible than a whisper. She heard the door shut abruptly enough to make her flinch in her seat. She knew she was overly paranoid. If she were to just say the right things and level up to this man's expectations, then she would surely obtain the job.

"There is but a single circumstance that I need to, ahem, make sure of before we start anything," Lucius declared in an almost stern tone, successfully absorbing all of her attention and accommodation.

"Yes?"

He had yet to take his own seat as he ogled her dead in the eyes, as if trying to seek out her soul. Keeping his stare glued to hers the entire time, he inquired, "You are of a Pureblood status, correct?"

Pinning down the urge to quirk an eyebrow back his way at that odd and earnestly nonsensical regulation, she lied, "Yes, I am."

The lightest of smirks grew along his pale-pink lips as he took his seat. "Alright then. We may begin."

"Um, if you do not mind my asking, Mr.—Lucius, does my bloodline matter in the hiring?" she asked, almost regretting doing so in case she were risking an immediate dismissal, right then and there, the opening something to forget.

His smirk faded, transforming into a frown. "Well, obviously blood status plays a dire role in our community, Miss Lourdes. I find that the more pure one's blood is of magic, the better that particular person can perform the given task, even if simple. You see, in the Magical World, Purebloods are naturally the most diligent and thorough in whatever it is they are destined to do, whereas a Mud—em, Muggle-born, is simply not equipped to carry out order to the community in the proper way a Pureblooded individual can. As my restriction stands, I only hire those who are born into Pureblooded families, with the occasional exception of few Half-bloods when and if they prove themselves sufficiently worthy of my consideration. Is that comprehensible?"

A nod returned his way, though on the inside, Solone was close to fuming. None of what he said was in any form true. He had shown her his cut-and-dry prejudice. She could only pray that he would not critique her for her evident Latin race. At this point she was about ready to flip him the middle finger for his rude and extremely biased overstatement and march out of the manor, and heck, probably even take that suffering little elf with her as she did so, but her brain had beat her heart's desires and forced her to remain stuck to her seat, the lack of action likely shaming her ancestors greatly.

"I've taken notice of your Spanish accent...I'd wager you did not grow up here in Great Britain, am I right?" he asked, folding his hands over the desk and studying her every fiber, directing his full attention to her and her only.

"Yes, I grew up in New Mexico, in the United States," she replied, fearful that she'd say something that would make her lose her chance of getting hired.

"Ah, I see...and what school did you attend?"

"Salem's Academy for Witches and Warlocks in Massachusetts. I graduated from there in 1984."

"Mm, interesting. What is your date of birth?"

"June 25th of 1966."

"How long have you been working as a maid?"

"I started my work at the Hyncroft Inn when I was eighteen and worked there for two years. I was then offered a job as a Governess at an elderly witch's private estate, and I worked for her as a nanny for her great-grandchildren until a few years ago when she passed away. Since then I have been working at various hotels and properties where there is hire...yet, even in my years of built up savings I have made too little, unfortunately. I noticed your ad in the Daily Prophet recently and-"

"Pardon my interrupting, Miss Lourdes, but I must ask, are you only seeking this position for the salary?"

At that, she felt her cheeks go aflame and her heart pounded vigorously within her chest. How exactly was she to answer that without appearing conceited? He himself reeked of arrogance, but that did not mean she had the authority to do the same in his presence.

"If that is my reason, sir, is that, um, bad in your eyes?" She swallowed hard after making that statement, mentally chastising herself for sounding so stupid. However, his expression softened as he leant back into his seat and shook his head.

"Not at all. Why, that is in all actuality, highly reasonable. I'd be baffled at a different cause to your arrival."

Why did he even pressure that on her in the first place, then? Was he just pestering her for his own amusement?

"Who was that elf out there? Does he work for you as a servant?" she asked, breaking the silence that had gradually crept in.

"Not that he is of importance to this discussion, nor any for that matter, but he is our House-Elf. He does serve my family and myself, just as he is obliged to. I am presuming that your family did not own one of them, considering your ignorance to the market."

Again, she felt her face flush beetroot at that insinuation. The way he let 'ignorance' pass his lips in such a vulgar and even cruel tone made her want to give him a piece of her mind, but alas, she just couldn't let herself do anything obscene towards him.

"We did not...Market?" she couldn't help but ask. She did not miss the swift roll of his eyes after she spoke, his annoyance blunt as ever.

"Of course you are aware of the Ministry's House Elf Localization Office? There you can purchase however many of them as you please. Often, they are auctioned off to the highest bid per elf, though sometimes a group of elves can be sold at quite a deal. Dobby, the nasty little vermin you met, has been serving our kin for the last twenty years."

A disgruntling feeling erupted inside of her. She had gotten a wicked vibe from this man. In the past she had worked for haughty and superior men and women who vented a nature akin to his, but never had she been faced with anyone this chilly.

"Now, to move on, I would like to discuss the duties you are to accomplish if you are chosen for the opening," he announced, that dark and haunting tone of his never dying. She especially didn't like the sound of that 'if'.

"My estate includes forty rooms, each of similar dimensions. Occasionally, we have guests over for a night or a weekend, and when that occurs, they use one of the bedrooms upstairs. When a guest arrives, you shall tidy up the room; make it immaculate, fit for a queen. The dining area can be a common attraction for spiders, so if cobwebs begin to drape around you need to dust every nook and cranny of the very room we eat our meals in, which should be of no difficulty, I'd presume. See that the floors without carpeting are polished and the laundry needs to be taken care of. As of now the elf does most of the cooking, so overall, you keep this home spotless and tidy, agreed?"

She nodded.

"Well, I will discuss what your income would be with my wife, Narcissa, later on. I will contact you if you have landed yourself the position. From there on I will give you your shift and working days. Chances are you'd be getting your weekends off, but my spouse and I will give the final say when the time arrives. It was a pleasure meeting you, Solone."

He held out his hand again and she took it shakily. Smiling, she mumbled a quick "Thank you" before rising from her seat and making her exit.

...

Lucius had very little contemplating to do, for she was not even close to what he'd define as idealistic, according to his preferences. The entire twenty-two minutes they were within one another's vicinity she was a stammering, jittery, fearful little woman who asked too many questions. He had her actual blood status to verify, for she was oblivious to House-Elves for Merlin's sake. And frankly, he had never thought too highly of Mexicans, for the ones he knew were all the same with their inscrutable tongue and infectious diseases. Oh yes, he'd heard about the country's permeated water supply and dishes that made tourists sick for weeks. He didn't need to visit the country to confirm this; he just acknowledged it, as if it were instinct. Though he had to keep in mind that he would not be judging little Miss Lourdes for her race, and maybe he could even pardon her blood status, whatever in Godric's name it really be. The alluring woman had certainly captivated his interest, more so than she herself could ever understand.

To his discouragement, he had another five interviews lined up for the next week, though he was certain that his mind was already made up. Still, he had to do as Narcissa had wanted, and pluck up the best maid he could. He knew that the wife would like to have an older woman of English descent keeping their home pristine, and not having this twenty-something Latina gal strutting about their home with her ageless face and naturally risen bosom harassing the sights of her former bachelor of a husband, but in truth, that was just what he craved.

Not three minutes had passed in Solone Lourdes' departure when he'd come to a set-in-stone decision. He was going to render her his.


	2. Just Worthy Enough

_**Chapter 2: Just Worthy Enough**_

It was a Thursday when Isla tapped at her owner's window with a letter. Solone had just gotten out of the shower and hurried to let her owl inside upon seeing the envelope in her beak, her bathrobe nearly slipping completely off at the pace. She was highly anxious, albeit eager to open it up to see what Mr. Malfoy had to reply.

_Dear Miss Solone Lourdes,_

_We are gracious to inform you that you have received the position. Report to the manor at precisely 11:00 a.m. on the 24th of August. We shall discuss furthermore on that date._

_Sincerely,_

_Lucius Malfoy_

She was beyond delighted. The first thing she did was call her cousin to tell her of the news. She kept her fingers crossed that this newfound occupation would work out for the better, unlike the bad luck she'd been given in earlier years.

* * *

With crossed arms and a grimace from hell, Narcissa Malfoy lurked about the living room while her husband sat cozily in his armchair surrounded by the warmth of the crackling blaze in the hearth, a fresh _Prophet_ unfolded in his hands.

"Of course you hire the _youngest _one! I bet she's a charming little lady, isn't she? With her wrinkle-less face and well-displayed cleavage and all…" Narcissa bit out at her indifferent spouse.

"My, I did not realize you'd be so _envious_, love. Had I known you would throw such a fit over the youth our incoming maid bears, then I would have surely reconsidered," he replied in a bitter mock, still remaining quite nonchalant while doing so, only infuriating his wife further.

"I am _not_ jealous, Lucius! I-I am merely upset that you went on ahead and chose who you wanted rather than discuss it over with me first! Frankly, I would have went with Ms. Douboi, you know, the Pureblooded elderly woman. She was organized, reserved and had _years_ of experience in-"

"In what?" Lucius chuckled. "Feather dusting? Tsk, it matters not how much _experience_ they have for keeping our home spotless, Narcissa. Besides, Eleanor looked about ready to keel over, wouldn't you agree? At least our more _youthful_ maid will be able to serve us in the years to come," he reasoned with a smirk.

"Ah, yes," she snapped. "And _fuck _you all the longer."

She marched out of the room with that, leaving Lucius to chortle at her obvious feelings of covetous. Then again, the wife certainly had much to fret over, didn't she?

* * *

Solone woke up at quarter to seven on the morning of the 24th. She started up her brew of coffee and took her longest shower in a while, self-consciously rinsing larger globs of conditioner into her hair than usual, aiming for an outcome of neat ringlets over an unruly mop of black, curly fuzz. It was assumed that both of her employers would deem a more controlled hairdo professional and dedicated. She swiped plenty of mascara on and coated her lips with a rosy gloss. Unsure of just how formally to dress, she opted for her best pair of gray slacks and a navy-blue tank top. Perhaps she'd be given a particular outfit to don by her bosses during her shift anyway. She put on the same mary janes she wore for the interview and fixed her hair into as tight and sturdy a bun as she could manage.

Before leaving that morning, she had swallowed down two cups of coffee and a single piece of raspberry jam toast. She was apprehensive for her first day, significantly more so than with her past jobs' first days. There was something about Mr. Malfoy that told her that he was no one to irritate, and his evident cruel behavior towards his genial little servant tied her stomach up into knots of fury, but she chose to let it slip as best as she could and focus on proving herself just worthy enough for the austere aristocrat-like figure.

She kissed Isla goodbye and fetched her broomstick from her closet. She decided to fly over taking the train to Wiltshire to both perk her up and save money. At the moment Solone considered herself to be a fairly frugal woman, but she was secretly hoping that would change with time and paychecks to come.

As she rode high up in the clouds, she yearned to let her curls flow wildly in the breeze, and ended up getting the best of herself just nine minutes into the air, figuring she could fix it up back into its neat updo upon arrival. When she landed before the iron gates of the manor twenty minutes later, she walked on with mildly flushed cheeks and untamed hair.

Lucius awaited his new little maid from the main hall as he stood at one the few windows with the curtains brushed aside. He felt a flow of euphoria accompanied with pleasure at the sight of Solone sashaying up to his front doors, the allure she radiated overwhelming. She had appeared more prepossessing than on their last meet just over a week earlier. How was that even possible? Just a handful of minutes into their previous encounter he wanted to lunge for her, hike her dress up, rip her panties off, (_if she were even wearing any_, he mused perversely) and thrust into her harder than anyone he had ever screwed in his life, his beloved included. Yet somehow, she had conquered his full attention again with a whole new wardrobe and ambiance about her.

'_Just a tad closer, now, my mesmerizing little slave...Come hither. No! Don't stop to admire the bloody garden! Yes...yes...get moving along now, my sweet. It won't be soon before long when I have you stripped stark, on your knees and ready to-'_

"She's late."

He spun around to see his grown nuisance of a wife by the stairway, her arms at her sides rather than crossed in their usual annoying position. Her lips were pulled into a thin frown, eyes narrowed in discontentment. At this moment she looked older and more dreadful than she had in their fourteen years of marriage.

"Hardly, Narcissa…" he scoffed. "Perhaps by a measly four minutes."

"Still, not too _precise_, is she?"

"Do not get your knickers in a twist, my dear. I assure you, she will meet your every expectation...Perhaps the two of you can even become...acquaintances."

"I wouldn't wager on that, Lucius," she snarled. "If she makes even the _tiniest_ flaw when I am around to catch her, then she will be dismissed in the blink of an-"

"Oh, no, she won't be!" the towering blond spat back brutally enough to make his wife flinch. Stepping her way, he went on with, "You will treat Solone with respect the blasted elf _dreams_ of! I'm not about to have this one walk out on us just because she is not of your _personal tastes_, understood?!"

"And what if I do not?" she challenged coldly, but before he could answer, a light knock sounded from their door. He shot her a final warning glance, then proceeded for the entrance with a straightened posture and a welcoming grin.

He opened the door to lose himself in those large, hazelnut eyes. "Morning, Miss Lourdes," he greeted, holding his pale, right hand out for her to shake. "Won't you come inside?"

Coyly, she laced her delicate fingers with his own and smilingly thanked him for handing her the position. Beyond him stood his already dissatisfied wife. Narcissa's eyes went wide at the view of their new maid. By Lord, she was even more stunning than she had presumed! Her _flirtatious_ smile and such _provocative_ top had made the thirty-seven-year-old wife angrier than what was healthy. She held down the immense impulse to scream out what a thieving, sultry whore she was, coming in here to try and _seduce_ her husband just shy of fifteen years into ramming the tight area in between her legs in a rowdy fashion. How _dare_ she attempt such! She took a deep breath and stepped forward to greet _their _housekeeper, remaining as stoic and mollified as Lucius had threatened.

"How do you do, Mrs. Malfoy?" the petite and _overly tan _woman chirped, holding out her hand.

Using all of her strength to keep from spitting straight on the newcomer's cheek in disgust, Narcissa curtly shook her hand and mumbled a quick, "I'm fine, thank you."

"Allow me to show you around the manor," Lucius offered from just a few feet away. Narcissa allowed herself the freedom to glare at the maid's turned back. With constructive consideration, Narcissa questioned why they even needed a maid at all.

* * *

Lucius had given Solone a grand detour of the entire estate, showing her around every last corner there was in and out of the manor. She took great interest in his vast array of gardens that lined the front lawn upon entering the gateway. She was equally awestruck at the size of the kitchen that was connected to the dining area. Silently, she hoped that one day the little elf would be too tired or ill to cook for the family, forcing her to step in. Such a lovely abode as this had made the maid want to go hardly ever, if only there were more bright and lively colors and lighting in at least some of the rooms. Every inch of the home and property captivated her, but why was the interior so dark? It was almost as if the Malfoys were a family of vampires, literally and maybe shamefully allergic to the sun, whereas she was raised underneath hours of hot daylight back at her family's farm in New Mexico.

"You have a marvelous home, sir. If you do not mind my asking, what is it that you do for a living?" she asked as they wandered down a trail outside of the manor with large and thick hedges at either side of them.

"Well, in the generations dating back centuries, we Malfoys have run multiple apothecaries in the making of wine and various other merchandise complementary of our affluence. I have been an Official of the Ministry and Governor for my son's private school since '77. That, Miss Lourdes, is how I've gotten to withstand my, _ahem_, appreciable bank's worth."

"Goodness, you sound like a busy, hard-working man," she piped in as she drank in the charm of the broad trail they were moseying down.

"I'm not one to boast," he remarked.

"Your son, how old is he?"

"Draco turned twelve on the fifth of June. He'll be starting his second year at Hogwarts in just a week. He was _thankfully_ sorted into the House of Slytherin last year, alike Narcissa and myself. Naturally, I'd guessed beforehand he would be placed as he was. He has just the cunning ambition and diligence required for such an honorary label. Originally, I had the boy set to attend the Durmstrang Institute out in Norway, with their system being designed for gentlemen of Pureblood, but my wife did not want him so 'far away', despite my suggestions that he would be alright; he's always done exceptionally with taking care of himself, and I was, and remain positive, that he would have excelled in that school, however," he paused to sigh, "I could not convince her otherwise, and she was allowed the final say...nevertheless, he does well enough at the school he's going to now."

"Oh...that is nice, yes?"

He smirked to himself at her accent and her occasional slip of the tongue. It could be assumed that English was not her primary language, though she still spoke with more articulation than any of Arthur Weasley's illiterate children, surely.

He chuckled. "Mm, right you are, madam. Had I absolutely loathed the school, then I wouldn't be representing the place as I do."

"That is logical, Mr.-"

"_Lucius_, my dear."

"Lucius...I do like that name."

Again, his smile contained more mirth than what was normal for him on a regular day. He wasn't sure what he enjoyed so much about having this woman in his company, but at this point he was certain that it went beyond just her physical beauty. Now he was finding that she was highly charismatic and genteel, far greater so than his often stern bitch of a wife. He not only knew but felt deep down in the most unperturbed pieces of his questionably existent soul that she was _something_ when he read the three pages she'd sent him of pure, pleading desperation. Never before had anything, not even the very witnessing of his own son entering the world, yank at his heartstrings like her letter had. It was certainly no résumé, nor was it the fluent, crisp, and cut-to-the-chase prattle that the other work-seekers had sent him in response to the ad he had placed in the _Prophet_, but it was somehow powerful enough to force his right hand over to his quill and write straight back. He just had to _see_ this woman, for reasons beyond him. Why, their first meeting wasn't an interview; it was preparation for what she had already won the second he read the first three words of her letter.

_"Please, Mr. Malfoy"_

And here she was at his side, a warm smile adorning her face and her ebony curls bouncing lightly with her stride. The older man struggled to avert his gaze from her, the enthralling little minx. To his luck, she was busying her own sights with his property, unbeknownst to his hard, intense gawk. He was also quite grateful that his so adorably jealous wife had decided to stay behind in the manor, to probably mope and fume in her own solitude, not that her spouse minded any.

"You have lived here all your life, yes?" she piped in as they veered onto a new pathway, this one smothered in plants of all kinds. The scent in the air was enticing to breathe in for the newcome maid. It stirred up old and presumed lost memories of her earliest years in her grandmother's gardens in New Mexico. She reminisced the times as a tot when she'd sniff the most gratifying scents in her pleasant gardens in the small backyard, the odors varying from the fresh roses wet and dripping from the rainfall earlier in the day, and the ripened tomatoes, basil and lavender. Solone had been through the grimmest of times when she lost her grandmother to breast cancer at the age of fifty-six when she was just fourteen. The recollection of the funeral brought a tear to her eye, and now was not a splendid time to weep in her new boss's presence.

"Yes, I grew up on the estate and have inherited the manor and all its luxuries after the sudden passing of my father. One day, I shall hand the manor over to my son, to ensure that he raises a family of his own in just the formality and paradise that I have been able to produce."

"How wonderful, sir," she chimed sweetly, twiddling her fingers in a nervous, unaware and subtle manner.

'_Divine,'_ his mind whispered, captivated at the delicacy this little woman showed.

"Indeed. Well, Miss Lourdes, now that I have given you a proper introduction to the grounds, I shall speak on your weekly shift and income," he addressed. "For the first few weeks, can you agree on coming in on Mondays through Fridays from noon until dusk?" She nodded. "You will be responsible for cooking our meals and keeping our rooms where business is paid tidy. We frequently have guests and need it spotless and neat for the visitors, and our damn—_ahem_, despicable House-Elf is not always able to keep up with the work he is assigned, likely due to his frail stature and tragically below average mentality...However, I suspect quite the contrary of you."

He stopped in his tracks, turned to her and smirked. "You are bound to make me, as well as my wife and son, contended."

"I sure hope so, sir," she complied, admittedly disgruntled by the way he referred to the kindhearted elf who greeted her at the doorway. Dobby did not deserve the malign that his master was speaking on about him so freely. Alas, she had to keep her disputes sealed inside so as to maintain a firm grip on her new occupation.

"Right then, come along back into the manor with me so we can evaluate remuneration in my office. I also have a few documents for you to sign before you are officially employed."

She nodded, willing to agree on nearly anything he had to assign.

_Nearly_ anything.

* * *

In his office, Solone took a seat before his desk in the same chair as on her last visit. Upon entering the manor, Narcissa had seemed eager to get to know their new maid beyond the simple handshake and "how do you do" greeting from earlier. However, Lucius made himself very clear when he implied that he wished to keep private what "further business" he had to address with Miss Lourdes when he recommended that his wife go into the kitchen and whip up a batch of scones and brew some tea. With evident hesitance, she went on to accomplish just that while the employer and the woman had another private chat in his personal quarters.

"Your wife is kind, Mr. Malfoy."

As he flipped through one of three of stacks of parchment atop his working space, he nodded and huffed a hasty "Yes," back her way. Solone had by now succeeded in receiving the position, but that did not designate a need to slouch back and decline any compliments or fair impressions for either of her employers. She was raised to treat everyone who crossed her path with great respect and courtesy, even if they themselves did not give off similar vibes. Being born into a Catholic family taught her to keep the Lord in her heart and look to others with sympathy and compassion.

"Ah, put your signature here, won't you?" he asked, laying the long, tan and mildly crinkled parchment in front of her along with a quill and some ink. The writing utensil remained untouched as she began to read through the first paragraph, to the apparent annoyance of Lucius.

"Oh, don't bother perusing that whole thing, Miss Lourdes. It merely states what you are obliged to do as a housekeeper, and we've already gone through what you need to know," he informed with a smirk and a wave of his hand.

"Um, alright."

She went on to sign her name in bubbly cursive that deviated greatly from his wife's penmanship, which was a boringly cliched small scribble that some would need a magnifying glass to read accurately. As she proceeded to sign the other two documents, Lucius found that he could not remove his eyes from her delicate, tanned right hand as she took her time to write out her full name. It was a petty muse really, but his eyes absorbed her every reflex with something close to obsession and scrutiny that he'd never used for his wife, let alone son, in the years he'd taken care of either. Unremarkably, this struck him as ridiculous.

"Is that all, sir?"

"_Lucius_, my dear, and, yes, that is all for now."

As they exited the office, Mrs. Malfoy headed their way with a tea kettle and a few cups on a metal tray, along with a forced smile. The three gathered around in the recreational room and took comfort in their own armchair by the unlit hearth.

"Narcissa, won't you go and fetch Draco? I'd like him to meet Miss Lourdes, for she _is _going to be around here quite frequently, after all," Lucius asserted, to be returned a thin-lipped frown as his wife finished pouring the steaming tea into her own cup.

"He's still at Vincent's home. He shouldn't return for another six or so hours."

"Mm, alright, then. Solone, you will meet my son tonight during supper. Until then, we'll take the time to get acquainted with one another better."

Solone missed the flicker of Narcissa's eyebrow as well as the scowl she presented in that moment, but Lucius did not. It was transparent that his wife did not take a liking to the maid, and as he'd been constantly scolded at in the week that went by before he'd sent off that letter telling Solone that she'd received the opening (without a word of opinion on the wife's behalf), Lucius was well aware that Narcissa wanted old lady Duboi mopping up their home over the young and sexy _spic_, as the wife had so loathsomely described her, much to her spouse's disdain.

"Is something the matter, dear?" he asked the grimacing woman beside him.

"Oh, I'd just guessed that the two of you already got quite acquainted enough with one another on your little excursion outdoors, _love_," Narcissa spat with such little sincerity that it could qualify as an insult. Lucius was astounded as to why his wife was already throwing out her harsh feelings for Solone. He not only was that, but downright pissed as well. He seemed to recall their discussion earlier on how she was going to behave herself in the presence of Miss Lourdes or otherwise, well, he hadn't actually gotten around to finishing that threat due to that soothingly gentle knock at their front door, but nevertheless, Narcissa, being a lady of high class herself, should have known better than to speak so rudely in the welcoming of their new guest and housekeeper.

"Darling…" he forced a grin to accompany his inquiry, "what are you suggesting?"

With an abrupt stand that nearly knocked the tea cozy and her half-full cup down to the floor, Narcissa answered, "Nothing, darling, nothing at all." She then stalked out of the proximity, leaving behind a hypothetical trail of abhorrence. Lucius internally fumed at the occurrence while the younger woman beside him felt guilty.

"She...does not like me."

At that, he whipped his head in her direction and shakily corrected, "No, no, Miss Lourdes. You are no problem at all. She'd just been, well, a tad under the weather lately. Narcissa always has been rather moody when her migraines get the best of her."

Despite this affirmation, she still sensed that Mrs. Malfoy did not own the same welcoming regards that Lucius had been showing. She briefly surmised that the lady might have been skeptical of her race's work ethic, because, yes, Solone was well aware that many people of higher class all around the world can be judgmental, certainly not everyone of great wealth and formality, but portions, and it seemed that the Malfoys fell into that category. She could easily infer this once her boss himself had told her of his oppressive regulation that whomever works for him must be of Pureblood descent.

She clung on to her ancestors' guidance that Lucius would not uncover the truth that she was indeed not a Pureblooded witch, but just as good as one nonetheless. Yet, if it was true that this kin did not look fondly to others of differing race and culture, then why was Lucius treating her with such generosity?

* * *

Solone's first task was to assist the House-Elf in the kitchen with making a grand dinner for the family that evening. They were to brew up a pot of vegetable stew with chicken and rolls. Solone had always preferred cooking over cleaning and thought back to the times when she would cook pastries with Lady Tuffet's great-grandchildren a few years earlier. She adored those children. There were five she looked after: three girls and two boys, each of them under eight years of age. Their parents had passed away in an awry explosion at a Muggle World Exhibit in town, believed to have been orchestrated by Death Eaters. The children were with their great-grandmother at the time of the incident, and she had taken them under her wing in her care.

At the age of ninety-four she found it nearly impossible raising five youngsters on her own, and so she met Solone who had been looking for Governesses work at that time. For a year and a half she played a guardian's role for the children, coming to love each one individually, until Lady Tuffet passed away suddenly, her body found in her garden nearby an odd-looking patch of flowers. Further investigation determined that those flowers in particular were rare and lethal, generally only available on the black market to be used for attemptedly discreet murders. Solone recalled Lady Tuffet telling her of how a tall man in a black cloak had given her a pouch of seeds when she visited a botanical shop in Caster's Grove. She thought nothing wrongly of them and planted them once she returned home. This was just a few weeks earlier. Supposedly, once the seeds had begun to blossom they emanated a scent that constricts the airways with one inhale. It was concluded that this was how the elderly witch had met her demise earlier than she should have, considering she was a fairly healthy and spry Half-blooded witch. Solone continued to be sickened by the random motive for her murder, her killer still on the loose, never to be caught, it seemed.

With extended family living all around the globe, the children had nowhere to go after losing their guardian, and Solone had done all she could to take them in to raise herself in her flat, but she did not have the financial stability to successfully care for them, if not only two or three out of the five of them, and if she could not care for them all, then she could not care for any. She was torn apart watching those kids go into the Orphanage of Lonemorse in the village of Yuntine, where its children were rumoredly coerced into labor and often mistreated, though Solone could only pray that the rumors were either false or outdated. She would try to visit the children as often as she could, that being more than a few times a week, but visitors were, for some baffling, unjustifiable reason, not permitted to come by on a too frequent basis, and eventually every Tuffet child was adopted off, unfortunately only two remaining together in the process. All Solone could do was force herself to move along, just as her mother had suggested, and wish the best for each and every one of those children.

Now, at the considerable, porcelain basin of the Manor's kitchen, brimming a pot with water to steam for the stew, a tear ran down her cheek at the reveries of little Johnnie, Benjamin, Kalia, May and Fiona. Her short assistant had tuned in to her light sniffling without her awareness.

"Is something the matter, Miss Lourdes, ma'am?" the elf inquired with wide eyes and great concern.

She wiped away her tears and pulled herself together. "Oh, I'm alright, Dobby. I was just thinking back to the time when I looked after these children. I was their nanny until they were sent off elsewhere when their guardian passed away...It was quite upsetting for me, and still is. I could not afford to raise them myself."

A feeble and bony hand wrapped ever so gently around Solone's right wrist. "Dobby gives his condolences, madam."

The probable fact that he, such a sweetheart, was neglected made her want to curse the daylights out of her boss. How could anyone, no matter their extended jurisdiction, abuse such amiability in a creature?

"You may call me Solone, my friend,"

If possible, the scrawny elf's already humongous eyes went even larger in bewilderment. "Y-you consider Dobby...a _friend_?" he mumbled with evident uneasiness. Just how desolated was this poor fellow's life? It saddened the woman at his side to see him so socially deprived that he didn't even have a single person to call an acquaintance. After she placed the lid over the steaming stew she knelt down to embrace the woeful little man.

"Yes, I do, Dobby. You are a very special person. Very kindhearted and generous towards even those who do not deserve such sweetness. You may speak with me anytime you like."

As much as the elf would have loved her extended presence, he had to advise her with a grim warning. "Ma'am?" he whispered. She refrained from chopping up the carrots and glanced downwards, giving him her attention. "Dobby strictly advises that you get as far away from the Malfoy family as possible! Dobby wants Miss Solone Lourdes to be safe and away from the harm that rests within this manor!"

She shot him an addled look. "What do you mean?"

Cautiously, he checked the vicinity and stared at the kitchen's entrance to ensure that no one was nearby but the two of them.

He cupped his big, bony-fingered right hand to the side of his mouth and whispered, "Over many years has Dobby been put through the toil and pain of the grown-up Malfoy gentlemen. Over those same years has Dobby been scarred both physically and mentally at the wrath of these gentlemen. Dobby's masters have-" he paused to gulp, "tortured him into something very near madness. Dobby does not wish to see Miss Lourdes endure such torment. Only does Dobby desire Solone's sanctum and conformity."

Now alarmed, Solone hastily asked, "Is it Lucius who does these things to you?"

There was a slight tremor in his nod.

"What does he do?"

Again, he made sure they were completely alone before informing, "First it was Mister Lucius Malfoy's father, Abraxas Malfoy, who punished Dobby for his indolence when Dobby was just a very young elf, then as his son Lucius Malfoy grew older, he took ownership over Dobby. Dobby must serve the Malfoy family and obey their every command for the generations to come."

Solone was at loss for words. She had gotten the impression earlier on that her employer was not treating the elf too kindly, but never had she dreamed that Dobby was literally punished for whatever it was that he was doing 'wrong'. Thus far, Lucius had not shown any adamant notions of detestation for her, but what if that did change in time? Should she have taken the elf's words to heart and made her escape while she still could...or stick about and await what hell may have been rising? She could not just abandon Dobby. Perhaps this was her calling. Maybe she was meant to save him from this prison disguised as a castle. It would take time and effort to plan out exactly how she was going to transport Dobby to safe haven. She would certainly need to hold on to her position and get on her employers' good terms.

"Don't you worry, my friend. I will do my best to try and get you out of here."

"No! You mustn't!" he yipped. "Dobby must stay here for all eternity! Dobby must serve the Malfoys! Dobby cannot leave, not ever!"

She shushed him so as to prevent either of her bosses from wandering in to investigate all the commotion. Sighing and massaging her temples frustratingly, she mumbled, "Why can't you go?"

Shaking his head, he answered, "Dobby mustn't reveal. Dobby must never tell others why he cannot be free."

At this point she was on the verge of sobbing for the indigent creature. It took all the restraint she possessed to keep from sweeping him off his feet and fleeing the manor; anything to break him into freedom.

"Why can't you tell me, dear?"

Before he could pronounce a single word in response, his body flattened up against the cabinets and his eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. Solone studied his look briefly before spinning to see a scowling, cross-armed Lucius at the threshold. She had not seen him appear this flustered until now.

"Dobby, what do you think you're doing distracting Miss Lourdes with your insignificant gibberish? If I recall correctly, I told you to keep your lips sealed and provide a helping hand with the lady." He stepped in closer, his glare never leaving the shaken elf as he did so. "So enlighten me as to why you've decided to go against my orders?"

"D-Dob-b-by is t-t-terribly r-remorseful, sir!" he stuttered back anxiously enough to practically slap Solone with a mix of intense confusion and anger.

"If I may, Lucius, he was merely suggesting that I add a tad more pepper to the stew," the maid objected, doing her best to sound nowhere near as cross as she was internally. Those piercing grays bounced onto her and a scoff erupted from within the much taller man.

"Well, if you insist so, Solone. However…" he took one great step forward, just about closing the distance in between them, "you may bring it to my attention if he is of any nuisance to you at any time. Believe me…" he shot the elf a look of absolute revolt, "there are no restrictions. Do not shy away my office if a nerve of yours bursts at the fault of _That_."

A protesting peep escaped her lips but she covered it up with a nod and a feigned assurance of, "Yes, I will."

Smirking approvingly, he backed up and took a gander at the steaming pot on the stove. "How is supper coming along?" he asked, breaking the proximity's tension.

"Oh, the stew will be finished soon, in about ten minutes or so, and the chicken is cooling off over there," she answered.

"Excellent. Once everything is through, you and the _monstrosity_ may bring it out. Take a seat with us as well. I'd like you to meet my son."

He departed the kitchen at her nod. She gifted Dobby with a final look of empathy before attending to the meal. Not another word was shared between them in the next fifteen minutes.

...

Once the plates, silverware and food was all set up and ready for everyone, Lucius allowed the maid to have a seat. The rectangular dining table was considerably larger than her own, but it wasn't as large as she had thought it would be beforehand. There were eight chairs, two on each side, though only four were in use for tonight. Solone supposed that the extra seats were for their visitors. She was not taken aback to see her new little pal exit the room with not a scrap of meat or a petty sip of stew to follow him out. In fact, Lucius had again sternly ordered Dobby to return to his personal chambers immediately once the family and the maid were acquainted enough. Solone swallowed down retorting words against him.

The son was a rather handsome lad, according to Solone. He definitely shared more than a few characteristics from his father, with his pale-blond hair, bluish-gray eyes, tall height and blanch skintone. He stared at her frequently throughout the course of dinner, and Solone presented him with a warm smile every time he looked, though he'd never return one. Each of them sat at their own side of the table, Narcissa to her right, Draco to her left, and Lucius a long distance across. There was a grandiose chandelier dangling high above them; its crystals shined enchantingly in the moonlight that reflected in through the uncurtained windowpanes. Lit candles floated above various spots around the table. The atmosphere left the maid in awe, while the family was far too acclimated to the set-up to pay much attention or interest to it.

"We used to have a butler, you know," the adolescent spoke up mid-meal. "His name was Clancy Forthwright. He died just last spring; slipped off a broomstick eighty or so feet in the air while he was out on holiday with his kids or something. His neck probably snapped like a toothpick."

"Draco!" his mother snapped. "Have you any manners? Do you really think it is _appropriate_ to discuss Mr. Forthwright's unfortunate death at this time?"

The child shrugged and said nothing more as he stuffed his mouth full with a thick chunk of well-cooked chicken. Solone timidly continued nibbling on her own dish, pleased not by what the child had to share but that he had something to say at all. She wanted the boy and the wife to open up to her and consider her trustworthy. She knew that a potential friendship between her and the Mrs. was too much to ask for, judging the way she was practically disowned earlier, but just a wee bit of respect amongst the Malfoy family would have bid her dandy enough.

"Hmph, had my suspicions that ol' Clancy wasn't of _pure_ blood to be entirely frank," Lucius threw in upon cleaning the remainder of his plate. "Hell, doubt he was even a forsaken Half-blood. Honestly, what skilled wizard meets their demise by clumsily tilting off their broom and not even having the sense to perhaps use his wand that should have been tucked away securely in a pocket just as any decent wizard of undiluted blood would make sure of? The man had never even heard of Durmstrang. Do you remember when I had Draco memorize their commandments by the time his sixth birthday arrived, Cissa? His schooling there would have been superb had you not insisted that he attend somewhere nearer to our home…"

With that, Narcissa allowed her fork to clatter on her plate. With a derisive sneer and roll of her eyes, she sighed, "I'm not going to discuss that over with you at this time, Lucius. Have you forgotten about our _guest_?"

Solone blushed when the man who sat across the table drew his glints over her while he cheerfully replied, "Of course not, dear. How could I have lost awareness of such a polite, mild-mannered and exquisitely brought-up woman?"

"Oh, why, thank you, sir," Solone murmured tentatively.

"So, Miss Lourdes, if you don't mind my asking, what attracted you to our advertisement?" Narcissa piped in, as if attemptedly wringing her husband's eyes from the maid and fixing them back onto his ever so doting _wife_.

"Well, it stood out amongst a few other job proposals I'd come across, and I had just gotten sacked from my previous work since the business was closing down. From there, I needed a paycheck rather quickly, so once I saw your ad in the _Daily Prophet_, I-"

"Say no more," Narcissa interrupted with a chuckle, "Your reasons are feasible, obviously. Now I'm curious, have you been married?"

She paid no heed to her glaring husband in her peripheral view and kept her focus on the lady whose body she knew her husband was fascinated with, even if he refused to recognize his feelings just yet. She needed to learn everything of this woman. She had to uncover just how much of a threat this peppy American woman posed to her marriage.

"No, ma'am. I have yet to wed. I do wish to marry a nice man someday."

'_The little whore.'_

"Mm, that's charming. I've been told that you attended Salem's Academy in North America. I've heard remarkable word of the school. What were you aspiring to become after graduating? Surely the maid's work was not in the mental mapping of your future, was it?"

"_Cissa_, in the hall, if you don't mind," Lucius cut in with a slightly aggressive bite, standing from his seat in the process. "Excuse us, Miss Lourdes. Please do converse with my son until we return," he suggested with an amiable, albeit snide smirk. She nodded, thereby signalling him out into the hallway outside of the dining area. Once the two were a ways down the hall, Narcissa's back met a portrait of her great-great-grandmother with enough exertion to knock a gust of wind from her.

"_Shite_, Lucius!"

"You're on a roll, darling! Just what kind of rubbish are you trying to pull off back in there?! You think you're giving off the right approach by interrogating the woman like she's some ex-convict? You best leave that business to me, understood? I'll have no more nonsense from you tonight."

"Oh, bite me, you worthless derelict! She is _our_ maid, Merlin damn you, and I will not just sit around and watch you ogle her over like she's got you under the influence of—of a sodding pitcher of Amortentia!"

"This is marvelous! I bloody _knew_ you are jealous! Oh, you foolish woman, under the impression that my cock goes turgid at the sight of every attractive lady who crosses my path."

"Deny it all you like, Lucius. I've seen you, every last bit for these past fourteen and a half years of bearing your last name and child. Even from our school years I knew you weren't one to grant _too _much faith. I am aware of your sly ways, sweetheart. You know you've selected this filthy spic for her grace, charisma and wonderfully risen bosoms."

"You are proving yourself to be astoundingly naive at the moment, Cissa-"

"I'll warn you fairly, honey. You are far better off keeping your eyes, hands and _dick_ a great distance from our housekeeper, or else you not only lose a wife, but that esteemed reputation you've built for yourself."

Lucius straightened himself out and rose a brow. "Was that a threat?" he challenged.

She veered out of his way and headed back for the dining room. "It's a promise."


	3. Ardor of a Malfoy

_**a/n:**_ _Here it is at long last! Sorry for the very lengthy wait. The next chapter is already begun, so it'll be up much sooner._

_"Oh diablos" = "Oh hell" (for the line of Spanish)_

* * *

_**Chapter Three: Ardor of a Malfoy**_

Lucius simply could not banish her from his focus even hours after her departure. Solone had gotten to him harder than he was hoping for. He knew that she interested him; he knew this precisely, but what was _so interesting_ about her left him with unanswerable questions.

As he lolled in his private office's armchair, he allowed his mind to wander to...forbidden places. His thoughts seemed bolted onto this blasted woman who'd dressed more enticing than what was appropriate for a housemaid that day, according to the wife, that was. He did not see this as a problem, not at all, in fact, but the wife had spent what three and a half hours she was awake after the maid was gone to load her husband's ears with ongoing bitching.

Yes, yes, Narcissa was jealous; there was no making that fact any clearer. This employee of theirs was approximately twelve years their junior, and not only that, but more attractive in general than Narcissa had ever been. Of course his wife was a luxurious woman in both appearance and tastes, but when one was married to the same old whining and common-placed cold derision, one could grow bored of the usual, everyday brand after a certain amount of years passed. He could bring wine into this scenario to exemplify this mental excuse. He never could bring himself to drink the _same_ wine every single night, could he? He wanted, or rather, needed something new.

Perhaps this fresh young maid was just the port he could use.

Whether the wife would cope with it or not, Lucius held feelings of some variety for Solone, even if he wasn't sure how to place these feelings just yet. Was it just approval he was carrying for her, possible dissatisfaction; _could she have been better?_ or could it have likely been a case of warming aptitude? He pondered on this heavily for seemingly hours. It wasn't until the grandfather clock struck midnight when he generated a probable diagnosis.

It was lust.

It must have been. Those lewd reveries he'd let slip by his mind, albeit fleeting, were too, well, creative per se, to be categorized as simple regards of approval or generosity for his maid's performances. Having this lady sprawled over his desk in nothing but...nothing at all, was not normal, thereby deserved no more defined labeling than guilty erotica. Oh, what his devoted other would do if she were to see these pornographic muses that he permitted to waft through his cranium. He chortled at the vision of her raging at him with one of his grandfather's antique broadaxes from the cellar. She would take him out with the gore and brutality of a crazed huntsman for his game. He thanked Merlin that Narcissa was poor with Occlumency…

He was fully authoritative in pretending to slam into what glorious mystery beheld the moist area in between Miss Lourdes' thighs. Lucius lulled in his power to fantasize what size, shape and color her nipples were on her B-cupped breasts. He had to contemplate a tad more thoroughly on what her lower landscaping looked like to the foreign eye.

He paused in his perverse fantasy to reflect upon the way which he used to fantasize about his wife before they were wed. Her subtle plain appearance didn't overthrow what elegant beauty she emanated, especially when she was youthful and far more lively at seventeen, and not nearly so crotchety nor was she the irritable snoot she was then at thirty-seven.

He returned to his exquisite visualizing for but a moment before a rap sounded at his office's door. Lucius seldom swore to himself, but with such an interruption, who was he not to make an exception with a muttered, "_Fuck._"

"Er, come in," he called out.

When Draco stuck his head in warily, the elder wizard sighed in relief. "Evening, son."

"Father, I've mentioned that I'm going to try out for Quidditch this year…" the adolescent began.

"Yes."

"I've been thinking. I think our team would benefit a lot if we had the new Nimbus Two-Thousand and Ones. I think we'd have a better chance at beating the other Houses with the latest edition in flying, don't you agree?"

Lucius smiled at the suggestion, giving Draco confidence in his request. He nodded. "I do agree, Draco. I can fund the team with them, _if_ _you_ are to make it on...and I am certain you will," he said with a wink.

"Thank you, Father."

The boy left, but Lucius wouldn't for at least another hour.

* * *

If it was even possible, Miss Lourdes returned the next morning even more stunning. At her beaming grin, Lucius felt as if he were a hormonal teenager again, unable to remove his eyes from a pretty woman, think straight, coherent thoughts nor maintain an entirely flaccid penis.

And for Merlin's sake, his hand was actually shaking as he extended it out to welcome her back.

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy, Mrs. Malfoy."

'_Such beauty ought to be forbidden...'_

"Down that hall, you'll walk into every guestroom to clear any dust in sight," Narcissa explained crisply. "Our elf has fixed our breakfast already, so you may get to work."

"Yes, ma'am," Solone answered kindly, striding down the appointed corridor with her tote of cleaning devices.

At that moment, Lucius had never regarded more contempt for his wife.

…

Stepping inside the first room at the right end of the hall, Solone's eyes dashed around, identifying the areas desperate for a dusting. Other than the masses of gray matter sullying the window curtains and bedsheets, the room was well-organized and tidy. She placed her bag on the bed, walked up to the window nearest and separated the curtains—a thick cloud of grime triggering a coughing spasm and watery eyes.

"Oh diablos!" she wheezed.

Sighing, she held her breath and closed her eyes while opening the curtains on the other side of the room. The rising sun illuminated the proximity to her liking while she worked, but since this family seemed to prefer blinded windows, she would pull them back upon exiting this room.

Obtaining her feather duster, her thoughts were stuck on how Narcissa was treating her. It was obvious that the woman had something against her, though Solone wasn't quite positive what that was for the time being. On the other hand, Lucius had been nothing but generous to her since her interview. Panic hit her system at the prospect of Narcissa having hinted at her actual Muggle-born status. Solone had lied, after all, though she should not have had to. Blood status was such a silly and nonsensical aspect to judge, notwithstanding the world, whether Muggle or Wizarding.

However, she'd shrug this off, for the pay to flood in would be worth the laborious tasks and scorn. Not to mention that elf could have used some companionship.

That room had taken eight minutes to wipe thoroughly, or as thoroughly as Solone deemed requisite. Her employers would make the final decision, she knew. Until then, she was prepared to tackle the next one down.

…

"You are behaving incredibly churlish _already_, Cissa!" Lucius snapped. He'd dragged his wife upstairs and into their bedroom.

"I merely gave the tawdry tramp a chore," she reasoned lowly, crossing her arms.

"I am fast losing patience with your pellucid jealousy." Lucius gritted his teeth and shook his head in disappointment. "Where is your wand?"

"You're not having it."

"Cissa," he began with a hiss, "I am going to confiscate your wand for today. Tell me where-"

"Merlin, you're difficult! Where do you think? In my bottom drawer," she growled.

Locating it, he walked to the room's entrance, Narcissa following, but not for long. Taking aim, he instructed, "You are to sit up in here until noon, darling. Reflect upon your rashness for the duration, won't you?"

"You are _not _locking me up! I'm no animal!"

"Sit, Cissa-"

"No," she bit out, moving to brush past him, but he proceeded to cast a spell upon her she'd been whipped with on several rocky occasions before in their marriage. She toppled, thudding on the floor, frozen stiff to her husband's, "_Petrificus totalus_!" She could do nothing, and flinch not a limb as Lucius looked her down with a smug smirk before making his exit, to retreat downstairs and fetch the maid from her futile cleaning spree.

…

"My wife had to run out on an errand this morning, and she will return at one or so, perhaps later."

"I see. Are you sure she said she was alright with leaving the rest of the rooms unattended?"

"Indeed, she was _very_ content on canceling such a useless duty. They only need to be spiffed up when guests occupy them, anyhow."

"Ah, well, what else can I do?"

"I can take you out to a café in Diagon Alley. There are some issues I'd like to cover outside of the home."

"Oh, okay. Are we flying?"

"Over here, Solone. We'll arrive by floo."

...

In Mikepolo's Coffee, Tea, and Co., Lucius led his maid out of the hearth from which they materialized in, and guided her towards the back of the building to seat her in a darkened and discreet booth. He sat across from her, carefully studying the woman as she plucked up a menu and scanned it over.

"I've brought you to further investigate your pursuits, Solone, and to assert a warning of sorts," Lucius declared. "You see, my wife has expressed some...hostility, not for you particularly, but, she always does become agitated around, _*ahem* _younger women."

She looked up at him with widened eyes and a raised brow. "Am I a nuisance, sir? Are you sacking me?"

"Uh—not at all, certainly no. I've only a message to convey, or let us say, a heads-up, concerning Narcissa. Now, if she assigns you a task, I'd like you to come to me and tell me. If I find that task to be unnecessary or ridiculous, you do not have to go forth with it. You are to accomplish solely what I propose, yes?"

Frowning slightly at the oddness, she nodded.

"Excellent, then. Now, do express your concerns if something I ask you seems too personal. Are you currently in a relationship?"

"No, I was last with a man over a year ago. We didn't date for too long a time."

'_That blasted accent! Merlin, strike me down!'_ he mused delightfully.

Swallowing his curiosities of:

_Who was your first lover? How old was he? You?_

_How many men have you been intimate with? Women?_

_What is your most desired sexual position?_

_Where do you prefer to fuck? Bed? Tabletop? Floor? Outdoors? Staircase? Bath? Counter? Against the wall?_

_Have you been orally pleasured? Have you reciprocated?_

_Do you accept anal?_

Or anything intimate of the like, he said, "I'll be covering the fee."

…

After a lengthy wander through the gardens, Lucius and Solone were indoors once more. He told her to retrieve her tote from where she'd left it. Meanwhile, he sped upstairs and loosened his wife with a flick of his wand, muttering one of his usual grim and terrifying deterrents that she best keep obedient. She obliged, for what option did she have?

Narcissa wore one of her sternest expressions to date as either spouse met up with their maid downstairs. She felt on the brink of exploding her rage, her hurt, and her plans to file for a divorce all over him, but to retain her flexibility and life, she kept her cool.

"Narcissa's just floo'd in from her mother's. She'd accidentally left one of her favorable petticoats and decided to get it, while also spending some quality time with her as well."

Solone smiled at her politely, but inside, she was cringing at the scowl from the pits of hell the wife was sporting. It was frightful, as if her mother had just passed away, or she'd just inadvertently released her bowels in her own frock. Her expression was one of shock, bewilderment and anger to Solone, but she remembered her employer's words of how jealous and hasty Narcissa could be, so she'd have to let her tense feelings slide.

"Miss Lourdes, why don't you join the elf in the kitchen," Lucius said. "Grill some provolone with leftover chicken in flatbread for lunch. Fresh lemons are in the basket at the end of the countertop, so do make lemonade as well."

…

Solone hummed to herself, her tune tender to the floppy ears of Dobby. She had two sandwiches done before glimpsing at the elf who'd been silent since she'd begun cooking. She gasped, spotting a purplish welt peeking out of his pillowcase located on the left upper side of his back.

"My!" She immediately tugged down the sack somewhat to better reveal the infliction. Dobby was wide-eyed and gulping.

"Did Mr. Malfoy do this to you again, Dobby?" she asked in barely above a whisper.

Peering cautiously at the entryway, he nodded. "Dobby needed punishing for his tendencies of burden. Dobby has been demanded not to speak to Miss Solone Lourdes on anything aside from the cooking at hand."

Her gut wrenched, her will to attack her employer at its mightiest. She glared outside the threshold, shaking her head and cursing in her native tongue hushedly.

"I will talk to him. He can't do that to-"

"NO! Solone Lourdes mustn't! Or else Dobby will be punished again, and far worse! Dobby was not supposed to confide such private details to Solone Lourdes!"

"But...but this is torture, sweetheart," the maid whispered uneasily. "This is going too far."

"And too far it shall persist…" Dobby sighed dismally.

"No, Señor, not on my watch. It may take a while, but I'll save you." She herself monitored the entryway before continuing, "I will help you escape."

* * *

After a day of little actual cooking and cleaning, but instead listening to Mr. Malfoy speak of his governing post and insultery of the 'lessers', Solone went home for the evening, her back turned to face Lucius' hawk-like leer and Narcissa's demonic grimace.

Returning to her flat, she instantly got to devising. Obviously, she couldn't steal the elf away soon, but it had to happen eventually. She'd not ever seen such a doozy on anybody or any creature! She'd hinted at some abuse on his part from the start, but she'd never dreamed he was lashed and burned like so.

Putting on some tea and feeding Isla, she contemplated. She could work for the family for as long as she financially needed to, then, when she had enough saved up, she could carry on with some risky decisions. Specifically, getting that elf to the haven of her flat until further ado.

For now, she'd have to keep going about her business, doing her job for the family and communicating little to the elf as to lessen his 'punishments'. As much as the notion made her nauseous, she couldn't help but notice the scalded scars on the elf's ears. It looked as if Lucius had burned them over the stove, or sealed them in the oven door. They were quite ghastly…

Suddenly, she was appreciative that she'd taken up this opening, for what if a different maid wouldn't have paid any mind to the suffering creature? Perhaps this was her calling. Whatever it was, Dobby _would_ be brought justice.

…

"We do not need a housekeeper, Lucius."

"Oh, now you contend that. You debated similarly with Draco's nanny because she was nineteen and had flawless bosoms."

"Stop it! It's not just her, you've been ignoring me as of late as it is. You ignore me and you lock yourself in your office doing Salazar-knows-what! You...haven't complimented my appearance in ages...I don't feel prepossessing anymore, Lucius. How do you think I'm going to feel when you nail your glints to such a sweet, innocent, pretty little _honey_?"

Meeting his gray hues with her teary blues, Lucius found no sympathy to present. Her statement was true; she hadn't glowed for him as she once did. Most marriages he knew of went down this path as well. It was fate. What could he do, or what did he care if the broad whined that he'd rather invest himself, or his cock, in between the thighs of more youthful, attractive girls? He was man, and what was man but a carnal mass of decisive wit and eagerness to seek the new and improved in life?

Yet, in an attempt to rid himself of these gushy, inane feelings for their little spaniard, he chose to screw his beloved other that night, much to Narcissa's ease. However, with every thrust, lick of her neck and womanly coo his ears were treated to, that maid was washed over every section of his brain, though he had to remind himself…

It was only lust.


	4. Crossing Lines

**Translations:**

**primo = cousin**

**Dios Mío! = Oh my God!**

**¿Lo qué crees que estás haciendo?! = What on earth do you think you're doing?!**

* * *

_**Chapter Four: Crossing Lines**_

Solone had received her biggest paycheck to date, and with a portion of the money, she splurged on a shopping spree, seeing no harm in doing so. She wisely stowed away most of her income in Gringotts while also paying off some debts.

A routine had been established in her visits to the manor. She'd whip up breakfast most mornings, clean where she was directed to, make lunch, and as of the start of her second week, her shift was through before dinner, as set by Narcissa.

On the first of September, their son was sent off to his boarding school, Hogwarts, leaving Lucius, Narcissa and Dobby to occupy the home. Her daily runs would evolve into a tedious venture, with the same old chores to complete, just in different zones of the home. Sometimes she'd be asked to tend to the gardening, and she would enthusiastically. The manor, vast as it was, could get stuffy at times, enough so to make Solone wish to stay outside for a while.

One afternoon, she knelt in the garden pruning several particularly coarse weeds and roots, losing herself in thoughts of how Mr. Malfoy eyed her. The manner in which he did it gave her an impression that suggested dominion; those silvery eyes would captivate her very soul if not temporarily. He'd regard her with enough hunger to weaken her knees.

There was something highly off about this man. The way he'd snap at his wife and swat his elf went noticed by their Keeper of the Dustpan. There was something nestled in him beyond his strict principles, brash bigotry and general snobbishness, a potentially dangerous something as sensed by Solone, and as warned by Dobby.

The garden pruned tidily, she stood and turned back for the manor—Lucius' sights nailed to her from roughly forty feet ahead. She flinched slightly, taken aback as he smirked cockily to himself and was afoot for his work once more. Dobby's warning wafted through her mind at that moment, her impulses screamed at her to hightail the manor and return never.

Without a second thought, however, she stayed.

...

With the hubby astray, Narcissa got busy in his office in a hunt through his bookshelf. Conveniently, Lucius had the latest edition of _Educational Institutions of the Wizarding World_. Perched at his desk chair, she sought the page of _Salem's Academy for Witches and Warlocks _contact information_._ Noting its posting address and Head's name, she reaped some parchment and dipped the available quill into its ink. Her manor reeked of disloyalty whilst the tramp was amid, and her suspicions craved a settlement of truth.

_4 September 1992_

_Ms. Agnes Loppencurff  
__Headmistress of Salem's Academy for Witches and Warlocks  
__Salem's Academy for Witches and Warlocks, Salem, Massachusetts, U.S.A._

_Dear Ms. Loppencurff,_

_Having recently hired Miss Solone Lourdes, a graduate of your Institute's Class of 1984, my husband, Lucius Malfoy, and I, Narcissa Malfoy, are in need of your former student's records, if still in stow. If not a hassle, a copy of her diploma and credentials would better enable her for the field she has opted to work under. We accept reply by owl post. Thank you ahead of time._

_Sincerely,  
__Narcissa Malfoy  
__415 Rokeroe Street  
__Wiltshire, England  
__86922_

"Now we'll see if the spic is true to her profession," she mused. "Certainly, she isn't of pure blood."

* * *

On the afternoon of September's last day, Lucius had returned home early from his work to Solone's message of how the wife had gone out on an errand and wouldn't be expected back for roughly an hour. Enthralled, Lucius sent his maid outdoors with a sizable blanket. He told her to spread it in the yard behind the hedge to her right. Meanwhile, he scrambled in the kitchen for food and Merlot. Lucius, in his fourteen years of marriage and twelve years in his fathering had not thrown a picnic, until this time, midday, with his lust interest. A baguette, olives and grapes would suffice with the wine; they had no time for a full luncheon with the beloved due back too soon. Snatching a standard woven basket from the nearest closet, he dumped the snacks into it as well as the bottle and sauntered outdoors for the crisping warmth of the dying summer.

His little maid was where directed, knelt on the blanket, her yellow sundress speckled with illustrations of rosebuds and unfortunately, not off her body. Her back turned to him, her black curls glistened in the sunlight magnificently. To Lucius, she was an Aphrodite of Latin origin. Positively gorgeous. It mattered not what she wore as all she sashayed to the job in never failed to excite Lucius' manhood. Contrarily, his erections had become stubborn as of late with the wife, even in her adequate nudity.

He sat beside her, so close his left thigh nudged her right. She paid it paltry mind, her gaze dazed on their surroundings: the expansive hedges, the faint and few chirps of the still lingering birds, the cloudy sun, the hue altering leaves, the enormity of the estate altogether; it all mesmerized the witch, growing up on a small farm with scanty money.

"Wine, Solone?" he inquired, twisting the cork up. "Merlot, 1987."

She looked into the basket and around them and a brow piqued, as there were no extra glasses. Meeting her eyes with his, she read his expression as smug partnered with his common smirk. He hadn't forgotten the glasses but purposefully excluded them. Suddenly, this gathering had occurred to the maid as a date, and the color of her cheeks matched the roses on her dress.

"Well, sure…" She accepted the bottle, all forty ounces, and she sipped it ladylike, thereby thrilling her employer much so. He stole the bottle back, gentleman-like, and had himself a sip. "My mamá and papá would bask outdoors like this, with champagne and fruits of our gardens. Mamá is a schoolteacher. Papá's been a farmer most his forty-seven years. He profits from his crops. We grow all the basic vegetables: carrots, tomatoes, celery, peppers, red, green and the occasional yellow, potatoes, both sweet and regular," she paused momentarily, wary she was yakking, but he kept silent, his eardrums waiting for more. "My mother's name is Rosaline and my papá, Julio. They fell in love in their adolescent years and married at just eighteen. They meant to have more children after me, but they struggled with fertility. I'm of a large family. Mamá's four sisters, my aunts, they all had over three kids with their lovers and husbands. Papá has a sister with two sons and two brothers, one who had three boys and two girls and the other who was lost at sea around twenty-three years ago. He was an adventurous sailor, you see. His passing devastated all our family. Yet, in my heritage, we have a day where we honor the deceased, Dia de los Muertos, every first of November. It helps us remember that death is more beautiful than we the living interpret it to be. As a Catholic, I believe there is a heaven and a hell, so I believe in my heart that Enrique Lourdes is safe and enveloped in love." She laced her fingers around the bottle and had another swallow. "What do you believe in?"

Lucius frowned somewhat, as he'd always presumed himself quite the sadist. He nor his family were of her saintly religion. They were hardly Christian, in fact. They had their natural system of beliefs; the Gods, the supremacy of pure blood and the accepted deficiency of lesser blood. Funnily, the more he got to know this woman the less he believed her to be a Pureblood. She had grown up elsewhere, sure, but she was simply far too unique from any other Pureblood he'd ever met or heard of. She was exceedingly bubbly and unusually kind to his walking tripe of a servant, not to mention she hadn't even known what in Salazar's name a House-Elf was. Although that had elevated skepticism instantly, he disregarded her likability of being a Mudblood or half one because he was too damn drawn to her to give her the boot.

"I believe...that any liars will be doomed to a particular earthbound damnation in accordance to the person lied to's wrath."

His maid chuckled. "So you are devout, yes?"

"Precisely."

"My papá stands out as highly devout in our religion. My grandpapá was a minister for his village in Sonora for thirty-nine years. He and Grandmamá immigrated to the states in-"

'_Oh, the babbler she is...' _Lucius mulled, losing focus of her tale, however paced and gentle it was. '_I'd wager the estate she'd go for days on end.' _And he'd wager his land off just as well that he could listen to that soft, distinct lilt of hers for just the duration. Much more of this sitting, tuning in and watching those moving lips and rising and descending chest drove him to the point where he could bear it no longer!

"-and when Mamá and Papá got engaged, Grandmamá threw a fiesta where Ministo Benjamin Rodriguez-"

Her yammering was cut short when thin, starved lips devoured her own. She inhaled sharply as her employer seized her petite body and pinned her to their blanket. He scrambled on top, his mouth smothering hers while his long, lecherous hands swam through his maid's dark curls, jerking her closer, ceasing none until their bodies were entangled. He fondled and necked her with great passion, even as she writhed in utter confusion and shock.

Parting her lips to dispute, the aristocrat's tongue plunged in, scoping her mouth's interior all the way to the back of her throat until she nipped, to which he replied roughly. Retracting from her by just an inch or so, he glared daggers to ridicule her rude gesture, the middle of his tongue bleeding slightly.

Blushing hard, she stammered, "Wh-what on earth? Why-"

"Shh, my pet. Don't you see?" he muttered, massaging the small of her back with either long hand of his. "I crave you."

Cringing as the metallic band of Lucius' wedding ring brushed against her, she snapped, "You are a married man!"

"Indeed, my naive mistress," he breathed. "I have wed an insufferable, classless wench whom only has ever taken interest in my finances and social standing." He waved his left hand over her face briefly before ripping the ring off and tossing it into the nearby hedge. "I've waited enough. You did sign the contract, after all," he chuckled, lowering his head to pepper kisses along her delicate neck.

She winced and grimaced as what was undoubtedly his erection teased her covered womanhood. She gaped when he nibbled into that pleasurable spot on the base of her neck that riled her up so her hips ground upwards involuntarily.

His chuckled response angered her. When he hiked the end of her dress up above her waist, she cruelly reminded him that the wifey would be back in little time. This halted him in his intentions. Grunting, he rose to straddle her waist.

"You keep silent on our indiscretion here, Miss Lourdes, understood? If you dare speak of our tryst to anyone, whether my wife, the elf or anyone else whom you might be in touch with, you shall meet a hex that will land you in a lifetime's paralyzation. Mark my words. Now, you are dismissed for the day." He got to his feet, smoothing the wrinkles out of his trousers. "I expect you back tomorrow, just as per usual."

…

Returned by floo, Narcissa set her bags in the master bedroom and went to collect the post from the main hall's mail bin. Among the pile was a letter of enormous intrigue—her response to her request of earlier that week.

Letting slip all the other envelopes, she tore Headmistress Loppencurff's apart as a lion would its earned gazelle. An internal burst of euphoria fused with anger and bloodthirst had her head spinning. All she had to spot was: **Blood Race: Muggle-Born**.

"Thank Salazar!" she screamed, positively thrilled.

In her exhilaration, Lucius had walked in through the front door, the blanket, picnic basket and half-empty Merlot in hold. However, Narcissa was too elated to pay heed to the materials for the time being, with the grand revelation at hand.

"The spic's a Mudblood!" she exclaimed, wagging the letter in his stoic face. "It's confirmed in the fourth line. Read it yourself." Her eyes drew to his holdings then, and they narrowed. "Where is she, and why do you have those?"

"It matters not where she is at the moment," he bit out. "Why did you contact Solone's place of education without my permission?"

Stupefied, she excused, "It - it was _necessary_, dearest. We couldn't just trust her word, and I was right not to! Have a gander! It's recorded here!"

Lucius glued his grays to the very line which had her so frantic. While a pint of rage coursed through him, as did his lack of regret in hiring her and necking her with passion he had never used with his beloved. He shrugged, passing her by.

"I'll talk with her about it later."

* * *

That evening, Solone invited her cousin over for tea and deep discussion. Esmeralda hadn't taken too lightly to the news, immediately deeming it sexual harassment, regardless of what Solone had apparently signed to in the contract. The man hadn't let her read it through to begin with.

"Don't go back," Esmeralda warned from the kitchen table. "Next he'll take advantage of you entirely."

"I am a fool, primo! Why did I sign the damn parchment when he didn't allow me to even acknowledge its content? It was an instant red flag!"

"Yes, and now you know better. You can stay away, and if he comes by, file a restraining order with the Minister."

"I must go back," Solone sighed. "He is mistreating that elf. I promised Dobby I'd rescue him, and I won't be able to do that if I'm fired. It's not like his advancements were dreadful," she smiled in delight. "Ooh, that man can kiss!"

"Sol! Remember the potential severity of this," Esmeralda scolded.

"No, I am continuing," she said with a curt nod. "For Dobby."

...

Solone got to washing the dishes the following morning as she entered a seemingly vacant house. She worked for less than ten minutes before a shrill wail cut through the outside hall. It was nearly sharp enough to vibrate the dish out of her grasp, into the pool of soapy water in the basin below. Solone faced the doorway, stunned, as another clipped shriek broke out through the air, sending her spleen into her throat.

"Heavens!" she gasped, discerning the bawls as her little elf friend's. It sounded as if the poor creature had taken a wicked stumble down the main hall's flight of stairs and broken his neck or mangled a limb from its socket. It was a howl of agony, and it wouldn't cease, not after five, nor after fifteen seconds.

As her dash through several halls neared the screaming's destination, she patted her dress' pockets, cursing under her breath in recollection that her wand was tucked into her purse on the patio's coat hanger. With such blood curdling yips ringing out, she disregarded the chance to go out and obtain it. Whatever the problem was, she was hopeful she'd be able to stop it with words of reason. After all, she'd been raised to believe even the worst case scenario could be brought to light with just the correct technique-

"Dios mío!" Bent over the edge of one of the guest room's beds splayed Dobby, utterly stark, his pillowcase crumpled on the duvet beside his weeping, turned head. Two swollen, acutely welted, burgundy buttocks were presented before her employer, a looped belt secured in his clench so tightly his knuckle was fused white and pink. She was so stunned by the sight, she subconsciously stammered in only her native tongue. "¿Lo qué crees que estás haciendo?!"

"Speak English, dear, I'm afraid I cannot comprehend your dialect," Lucius panted tersely, red-faced, through the tortured elf's diminishing bellows.

Fighting to relax, she breathed, "You - you must stop this!"

"Must I? This is my property, Solone. I may do whatever I so please with my possessions," he sneered, smirking as he lashed down onto Dobby's oozing left buttock with gut-wrenching exertion. His maid nearly fell unconscious at the piercing screech, snapping sound of leather on bare skin and dreadful atmosphere combined. The man shifted his glare to her once more, looking as if Lucifer himself had possessed him with his gray eyes so fraught with malice and his lips curled into the most diabolical and inhuman of smiles. Solone took a step backward, bile surging up in her chest, praying this was merely a nightmare of hell. "Be on your way, now, or suffer similar consequences, love," he taunted.

She shot a dizzy glance at the sobbing victim. Tears brimmed her eyes and a hand cupped over her mouth to suppress a whimper of shock and an insult toward the aggressor. Her legs tingling and her stomach in knots, she wondered why her knees had yet to give out. Feebly, the elf crooked his head to level his bloodshot eyes with hers where she stood at the threshold, and with this, another whip was executed.

"FREE YOURSELF, SOLONE LOUR—OH! P-P-PLEASE RUN!" the elf rasped.

Aggravation consuming her, she leapt at the flogger preceding another meant thrash to the damaged elf's behind. Taking him to the floor, she wrestled to her ability, but Lucius had proved far stronger. He flung her around so she struck the floor, and he was in control. Through gritted teeth, he ordered Dobby out of the room, and knowing the elf would retaliate to the safety of Miss Solone Lourdes, he added that he _would_ hurt the lady if he didn't scat. And the elf did with a limp, blood trailing down his legs.

"Monster!" Solone hissed, panting with Lucius.

"Any liars will be doomed to a particular earthbound damnation in accordance to the person lied to's wrath," he muttered, shifting to intimidate her with his stiffening crotch. "You recall those words? I'll perpetuate their meaning." Red-faced, his blond wisps dangled down to her shoulders from above. Solone had seen her boss at his angriest here, and it frightened the bejesus out of her. Her throat gripped tenaciously, he seethed, "My dear wife got ahold of dire records yesterday, and as it turns out, you've proven yourself a disloyal harlot, and even worse, a Mudblood." He snickered at her wide eyes. "Yes, Headmistress Loppencurff has you labeled a Muggle-Born, but in spite of what I said on the day we met in person, I am requesting that you stay, and continue your duties here, because I fancy your beauty and dainty habits to just that extent." He released her. "I've obliviated Cissa already, so she is unbeknownst to your true status. I could not anymore stand her bickering that I ban you from our lives." He stood, and stalked for the threshold. "Consider yourself fortuitous, Solone. Judging your sopping hands, I'm assuming you were tending to the dishes. Hop to that once more, won't you?"

At his official depart, tears leaked from the maid's eyes, and in her profound frustration, a migraine was born.


	5. Abiding

_**Chapter Five: Abiding**_

Twenty-five minutes following the guest bedroom calamity, Solone found herself seated at the dining table, Lucius across, his hands folded neatly and resting before him on the polished glass.

"Do pardon my outbursts," Lucius said formally, without a lick of genuine remorse. "I hope my words haven't affected your will to continue your work here."

"They haven't," she said truthfully. There was no way in hell she was leaving that elf here much longer. It would take time, and plenty of it, but she _would_ see to smuggling him out of here. Somehow. Eventually. She'd have to be meticulous and patient.

Lucius frowned, quite suspicious. "I'd anticipated your instant depart, to be frank…" He smirked. "Have my comments flattered you?"

She scoffed. There was no suppressing it. His appreciation on her "beauty and dainty habits" only revolted her, coming from a man of his likes.

"I didn't think such. Don't think me a fool, Solone. I know why you wish to stick around."

She drew her eyes to the spiff tabletop, swallowing a bitter remark. She'd never been treated so disparagingly in her life. The elf's tolerance of such shite truly flabbergasted her.

Chilly grays affixed her, as per damn usual. His gaze for the billionth time heavy over her, she cracked.

"I am not a disloyal harlot," she snapped, glaring him straight in the eyes, breaking him of his annoyingly possessive ogle. "I have made love with but one man, my late fiance, Leonard."

"What claimed his life?" the autocrat dared to query pitilessly.

"Tuberculosis."

Lucius returned a bemused expression.

"A terminal Muggle illness," she enlightened scathingly. "He was twenty-eight. I was twenty-one. I loved him with all my heart and soul, and I hadn't a single notion of cheating on him, and I doubt he did for me. So if you're going to insult me, do so faultlessly."

"Well, forgive the latter accusation, then. You've yet to prove your loyalty, however, as we've debunked your blood status' claim already. And if I suspect right on what your upcoming intentions are, you are far from trustworthy in my system."

"I've no clue what you're talking about."

"Bullshit," he spat. "We both acknowledge your means regarding the elf, the means that I could report you off to the Ministry for. Theft is criminal in this world too, dearest."

"Who are you to stand for loyalty, Lucius?" she snarled, clenching her fists beneath the table. "With your desire to go behind your wife's back to get cozy at mine."

"What gives you that impression?"

"Don't be modest now, you great jerk. What you yearn of me is flagrantly conspicuous."

"I'd watch your yap, sweet, or you're at loss of a job. Mind you, I've a knack for persuasion and could easily see to you never again picking up another housekeeping stint, let alone any work in Wizarding Britain."

"I'm not apologizing."

"You don't have to, at the moment..." He stood. "Just conduct yourself well onwards, and if I catch you affiliating with the servant a sole time more I'll introduce you to his lash. And don't you ponder trying to slip _It_ out of here or you'll have a lengthy sentence in Azkaban."

"Very well," she conceded casually, internally panicking and fuming. "I'll behave."

"Excellent." He swaggered for the room's exit. "Those dishes need tending to. Pip pip."

…

In his personal quarters, Lucius dissected his drawers and cabinets for his vial of Veritaserum. He'd always disfavored being lied to, and while he felt his maid's profession on sexual activity to be true, he had to be sure. He was unbeknownst as to whether or not she was mindful to this potion and its effects, but he'd make certain of her drinking it by making loud and clear her how her job was on the line.

"Ah ha," he mumbled upon plucking the aged liquid that was held in its minuscule ebony glass container. It was brewed half a decade before, but he doubted it had expired. He'd be putting it to the test soon to verify this, though.

Furthermore, he'd utilize this to check up on the woman's faith, see if she was keeping to her promise that her contact with Dobby was at a tremendous minimum. He'd do this with her once a week, he decided, once he got ahold of more of it.

Content and excited for the near future and Solone's inevitable obedience to arise, he plopped into his desk's chair and helped himself to a flute a Merlot, proceeding to slither through his governors' papers. Subsequently, the wife, in a disarray, invaded the proximity. Drat. She'd come to from her unconscious spell in the cellar.

Keeping composed, he began, "Cissa, what seems to be-"

A finicky porcelain hand swatted his cheek at momentum close to what he'd used in flogging the elf earlier. "You've utterly crossed the line, you bastard!"

Her wail gave his ears a mild ring. "Just now, I have?" he chuckled.

"You - you did something to me! My mind...the recent events...it's all foggy! You - you've obliviated me! That's it, Lucius! This has—_we_ have gone far enough! This - this is d-domestic abuse! You've only neglected me since we've let that stupid bint into this home to do for us the most simplistic and unnecessary of chores!"

"You agreed that we could use a helping hand around here, my hypocritical beloved. I merely proposed it."

"You know why you...oh, fuck it." The normally dignified madam sighed, running a shaky hand through her unkempt blonde tresses. "I want a divorce."

"I wish you the best of luck in seeking a cooperative attorney."

"What in hades do you denote by that?" she hissed.

"Any case worker of the paltriest intelligence should keep at bay from accommodating to your will to legally separate from a man such as myself, as _I_ don't covet divorce."

"You're off your head," she laughed, her cackle similar to her imprisoned sister Bellatrix's. "You don't own me. You never have. I may bear your notorious surname, but - but I can leave you if I feel like it."

Lucius reflected on their prenup, and how much of his hard-earned bank she was owed in the circumstance they cease their wedlock before either one's death. Chances were also higher than he liked that she'd have overall custody of their Draco for the next four years, until he turned seventeen. That prospect alone unsettled him far too greatly, regardless of his general residence being away at that silly boarding school. On the other hand, he was granted a better likelihood of sending his son off to the more resplendent Institute of Durmstrang. That would comfortably fulfill one of his multiple aspirations, another pertaining to the maid and her private parts.

"Remember my reputation, love." He smiled, so snootily confident. "I wish you the best of luck," he reiterated.

She harrumphed shrilly, stomping away to slam his door.

* * *

Placing the basin's last cleaned dish into the adjoining rack, Solone cursed the day she owled this place, and she simultaneously praised it. Oh, the massive duration it'd take to victoriously and without consequence free herself and little Dobby from this house of horror. On a brighter note, it would be worthwhile.

She tensed upon hearing a grimly familiar clanking of heels on the floor outside the kitchen. The clanks were paced too quickly and sharply to not indicate harm. When the nearby feet clicked to a stop at the threshold, she tentatively brought herself to face the visitor.

"Mrs. Malfoy," she greeted with feigned warmness.

A small glob of saliva splattered on the floor a few feet from Solone. "You missed a spot."

As clanking then distanced, the maid huffed in relief.

…

Headed for the manor's foyer, she clutched at her skirt so as to refrain from waving goodbye to the peering House-Elf off in the distance. Lord knew Mr. Malfoy was scrutinizing her just as he did every time she left for the evening, the fixating pervert.

"Miss Lourdes!"

'_Sweet Mother Mary.' _She turned to regard her boss who stood by his office. "Yes?"

"I'd like a word with you in my office. I won't be long."

Barely able to not roll her eyes in irritation, she came forth, cringing something terrible when he shut the door behind her. Her wand handy, she'd the advantage to protect herself if assaulted this time.

"Have a seat," he directed from his stance at a cupboard, his back facing her. "There are several questions I'd like answered. Nothing to fret over."

Her common sense told her to fret anyway. She scooted back a bit on impulse when a half-filled flute of wine was set in front of her. He had his own, but that didn't appease her. She wisely considered the probability that hers had been roofied.

'_Best not to pressure her,' _Lucius mused. '_She's more apt to consume it if not sternly insisted to.'_ He inwardly groaned seeing she was in no rush to take even a sip. He sipped his own in an effort to encourage, to no avail. He'd improvise momentarily.

"Does Salem's Academy organize its student body by persona groups? My son's school is divided into four 'Houses' which students are sorted into upon arriving on the first night of their first year. There is Slytherin, where those who are cunning and ambitious above all else belong. Our entire family has been a part of Slytherin, including Draco, thankfully. There is also Gryffindor, where those overly and irritatingly valiant land, then there's Ravenclaw for the wannabe intellectuals and Hufflepuff for the dimwitted milksops."

She grimaced, his small-talk peaking her wariness. His views on the other three Houses were of course judged with exaggeration and contempt. "We were all accepted and sorted as one at Salem. Partition seems detrimental to me. It only inspires antagonism, does it not? To the children it suggests they shouldn't befriend or band together with the students not in their respective House. Why categorize people with those just like them? They should rather bond and be amongst those who differ. Whoever thought that method up is ludicrous."

"Four highly esteemed Founders of centuries ago thought that up. I believe they had their righteous reasons for executing what they did. You didn't grow up here so you wouldn't understand. I reckon you come from a place of more peace and unity."

"I do. You especially have shown me how I did."

"Have I?" he snorted.

"No Purebloods of Salem critiqued Muggle-borns such as myself during my schooling there. Moving here to behold the racism that my cousin had depicted over the years was a mighty shock. I hope to see this land's flawed principles one day change."

"I wouldn't hold your breath," he opinionated, scowling at her untouched flute. "Ah, I lucidly see the Gryffindor in you."

"What if your son had been sorted as a Gryffindor? Or a Hufflepuff? Would you have rejected him?"

"In all integrity, I might have, however, such a scenario would have been impossible, for Narcissa and I raised our child to be very resourceful and crafty, just as a true Slytherin."

"Slytherin sounds like no welcome House to me. When I have babies, I'll do all I can to see them placed _out_ of such a vain class."

"You've tragically misunderstood me. The House of Slytherin is one of utmost prestige. It ensures only great success and security in its followers."

"But I'd still want my young to do without it. It may rouse triumph in its people, but it also teaches them to be assholes," she narrowed her sights at him, "as you yourself typify."

"Why, you haven't tried your wine. It's aged seven years and is one of my most delectable-"

"Adios," she muttered, excusing herself. "Don't worry, I will be back."

He watched her strut off, infuriated that he'd just wasted most of his remaining truth-coughing elixir. There wasn't exactly a plentiful stock on the market and it was difficult and very time-consuming to make.

Nevertheless, wicked schemes played in his mind, and drastic ones at that. Well, they'd be deemed drastic to her anyway. Negotiations were in order. If the lady would so kindly yield to what he had in mind, maybe he'd cut Dobby some slack after all.


	6. Not For Sale

A/N: Alright, I really oughta start updating a bit faster. Big thanks to reviewers, followers and favoriters! I'm striving to have ch 7 up before August hits.

Pius Thicknesse is a divorce attorney for the Ministry in this story as JK has none listed in canon (to my knowledge). Lucius is an only-child in canon, (I *think*) but here he has an elder brother/OC, Karberos Malfoy.

_Translation:_

_Abuela = Grandmother_

* * *

_**Chapter Six: Not For Sale**_

His agenda for the road ahead looking bright, Lucius, in his stroll through Gladrags' lingerie section, snatched the sultriest garb that captivated his sinister eye. Glancing over its size, he presumed the XS a right fit for his petite and lithe maid and tossed it into his shopping basket, then stalking forth for the rack of crotchless knickers. It was time for Solone to leave less to his imagination.

* * *

On the Ministry's second level, Narcissa warmly greeted Pius Thicknesse. Yes, she'd kept true to her word and scheduled an appointment with a willing divorce attorney because to hell with her husband's threats and cocky upper-hand in more relations than the average wizard.

"Such a dissolution should flood headlines for weeks, Madam Mal-"

"_Black_," she sliced in curtly. "I am not opting to wait until the divorce is officialized to reinstate my maiden surname. I want naught to do with the rogue anymore."

"Yes, of course, Madam Black. Now, Lucius has either confronted or owled many of my associates already with…" he coughed a silent ahem, "with, well...bargains-"

"You don't have to be so modest, Pius. Blackmail and bribery. How do you suspect he got off free on that Imperius charge in '81? I'd only expect him to execute such measures as per usual, the devious worm."

"Divorce doesn't seem a large priority of his..." Pius paused, frowning. "I am anticipating an owl from him sometime today. It will probably arrive before noon."

"Oh, I know," she sighed, placing a hand on the minister and lawyer's shoulder. "Thank you for reaching out to me in the nick of time. My options are fast slimming."

"Not at all." He held open his office's door for her. "Let us see what we can do for your case."

The aspiring divorcee nodded, a tingle of soothing liberation washing through her system at the beautiful prospect of once again being a single, self-ruling woman. Nevermore would the tip of a debauched fucker's wand hex her stiff as a hunk of cement or clear her head of data so she would yak on no further about a wannabe cheater's comically obvious regards for another broad. She doubted she'd go hunting for a big, important man for quite a while when this mess was final and set in the clear. She bid the corrupt git and his little temptress only the best. To her mirth, the exposed pairing would thoroughly spoil his reputation.

…

It was late October and Solone's scowl was so heavy it strained her facial muscles as she pointlessly scrubbed thick suds into the foyer's floor that was already pristine enough to eat off of. On her hands and knees and bum in the air she was at her employer's command whilst wearing a lacy gown that clung to her figure in a way she seriously hated. It was so low-cut her breasts almost spilled out entirely so that she appeared a shameless hussy. Papa and Abuela would faint if they were to catch her this scantily-clad. Mama would frown something intense as well.

At the nearest threshold, Lucius' hungry stare for the maid's much revealed tanned skin rivaled Vernon Dursley's for his respective wife's pot roast. Those piercing eyes rested over Solone like a blanket she swore she could feel draping on her back. Against her better and safer judgement, she spun around and faced the man without letting fade her glare that could quieten the rowdiest of demons.

"Is there something you need, Lucius?"

That question's etched audacity was uncalled for and too churlish for her good in his book. She really shouldn't have, but he'd accord her a warning this time, just since she'd been adequately obedient as of late.

"Did I ask you of a service extraneous to the one you're accomplishing for me now?"

"Not audibly."

Her doughty spirit was impressive, albeit brimmingly inappropriate.

"I need you to continue the task at hand until I instruct you otherwise." With that, he marched for his office, bank and public-image damaging nuptials on his mind along with sly negotiations. Cissa was out that morning 'for a get-together' with the Crabbe and Macnair wives. Well, he'd yet another attorney's favor to sway by potent extortion.

* * *

Merlin's arse was Governor Malfoy's offering one Thicknesse refused to refuse! A glimmer of guilt on the wife's part lingered briefly, but he couldn't be any more sorry, not with how much richer he was about to be for simply declining this case. Not to mention, the divorce would not be legal unless both parties signed the special parchments, and considering one party was not cooperative…

'_She was wasting her time to begin with.'_

* * *

Pius' letter of dismissal was frustrating enough to induce a nervous breakdown, but Narcissa kept her air of indifference for Plan B. A family reunion hadn't been held at the manor for a handful of years. She'd invite Lucius' elder brother, Karberos, a handsome, equally cunning Lucifer (and useless squib). She'd seduce him in Lucius' proximity. She'd bear faith her showy display of affection towards the other wizard would press the prospective adulterer into dropping the bribery and inking the necessary parchments and therefore set her loose. The Black women weren't known for their easy surrenderance, after all. Justice would shower upon her, even if it took her an obese and grueling interval.

"Address these referring to pages one through four in the booklet there," Narcissa muttered down at the dining table-seated maid. "One address per envelope."

'_Oh really?'_ Solone damn nearly spat. The barks this boss fed her equated the other's condescendence, and Solone applauded herself for holding her peace. '_You're enduring for Dobby.'_

"Yes, ma'am. You are hosting a reunion?" Solone said, her voice void of the anger brewing in her. "My kin does annually. We call them fiestas. I've plenty of cousins and siblings, so when I was small we helped my mama cook the feast and prepare the festivities."

The attempt at conversational generosity encouraged the Englishwoman to snort. "Inbred...like a traitorous Pureblood Wizarding family I know. Those Weasleys...too vacuous to use contraception. Result of seven bumpkin children." She shook her head in stuffy enmity, exiting with a mumbled, "Ludicrous."

Instead of broiling at the jibe her family thankfully didn't have to hear, Solone pitied the woman for her inability to empathize and respect her fellow human being. It was a debilitating curse indeed, one that Lord Voldemort monster she'd heard about since moving to England suffered from. To possess a charred soul and frozen heart...Solone whispered a quick Hail Mary for her employers before getting to work.

…

His spouse had addled him, spontaneously throwing a ball two months preceding the holidays, but he condoned the event. Lucius' powerful swoon over the virtuous housekeeper was wearing on him, had been for what seemed ages. Maybe those bombshell Black witches on Cissa's side would quell this harrowing lust that festered by the day. Straighten his fevered mind out. Boot the inconvenience from his estate once saw her as nothing more than a plain, boring dago. Overcoming such a feat was surefire to save his marriage. His esteemed reputation would remain unharmed.

Narcissa's show of flirtation turned hilarious to Lucius while not as much to his squib brother who'd, politely as he could, fended her away once her mildly saggy bum made contact with what hung below his belt.

Lucius and Karberos, technical blood brothers that they were, had seen each other in person at a grave minimum since the fall of '67 when Karberos turned seventeen and Father exiled him to the Muggle world. Abraxas had shunned his first son from the discovery that no lick of magic swam through his veins. The signs were diagnosable in the boy's infancy as his mannerisms were a tad too mundane and horridly un-mystical. Abraxas was ashamed in his loins for producing such a failure in their name's centuries of sacred Pureblood lineage and he was incredibly iffy to go forth with a second, but Lucius hadn't failed, so Lucius consequently earned goodies and affection in his qualifying for Hogwarts, while Karberos would have been abandoned in a dumpster of Knockturn Alley had it not been for Mother's intervening unconditional love.

In the past shy twenty-four years Karberos had been an unmarried, childless, depressed, on-again-off-again alcoholic minimum-waged factory worker in Southwark, London, his home not a towering manor like that of his brother's but a crummy, low-rate flat with roaches and ceiling leaks. Christmas cards were only exchanged between the siblings once every eight or so blue moons. Karberos was scolded not to bother sending his nephew any birthday or holiday presents because "anything from his muddy region would just contaminate Draco's state of mind, eyes and hands". Karberos obliged, happily left-out as he'd been from birth, his 'disease' solely an abashment, apparently.

Lucius would have hexed the bereft Malfoy from his house the minute Cissa was done making a pretentious ho out of herself with him, but his in-laws and blood family were distracting him much so. When one of the dogs pinched the behind of his maid, he about roared a crucio the harasser's way, however, right then one of Cissa's more promiscuous cousins tipsily sauntered over to where he stood by the hearth, a coy smirk for him to admire.

"Long time, no see, Lucius. How're you all getting along?"

"We're well, Capella, yourself?"

"Dandy. Adore these soirées. Lately I've been missing chances to unwind and have a drink or several. You and Cissy have my appreciation." She downed her half-full goblet in a matter of three ticks. The voluptuous curly brunette then eyed the foreign caterer who was serving a pack of leering blond Malfoy brutes across the hall. "I thought that mangy elf played servant. Has he croaked?"

"Unfortunately not. He is preparing another souffle in the kitchen at the moment. That is our maid, Solone Lourdes."

"Oh, I didn't know you got one of those." She scrunched her nose and furrowed her brows contemplatively. "Lourdes...She's not of our Twenty-Eight. She Half-blood?"

"Guess again," he grumbled.

"Ew, Lucius, it's bad enough you lot have that lousy elf round here. You've welcomed her tainted blood, too?"

"It was Cissa's idea," he lied.

"Hmph. Well, I could use more pina colada. BRB."

His groin had twitched none in her presence, and worse still, Lucius had inadvertently bared his teeth at the sight of his bachelor brother raking his glints over the maid, surely mulling something libidinous. Solone acknowledged Karberos' creepy stare and frowned slightly for a millisecond. The elder lecher was slapping his maid with the heebie-jeebies, Lucius inferred.

Dragonhide loafers pursued those which began to move for the outdoor patio, Kerberos signaling Solone to follow. What in Hades was up that bastard's sleeve? In his starvation to spy on them, Lucius cornered one of his cousins and told him to cast a disillusionment charm upon him, and to do so without question. Invisible, he crept out through a different exit, hiding behind an alcove where Karberos and Solone stood a few yards away, and tuned in.

"Their looks of repulsion are irritating," Karberos said, drawing a small, red device from his otherworldly trousers' right pocket. He flicked and held down a tiny button of some variety, a short flame dancing atop it. Muggles had their methods of magic. Lucius hesitantly confessed this one was nifty. A thin, white stick the length of a pinky was lit and placed between his lips, a puff of smoke clouding his and her space. "I'm a squib, you see."

"A squib?" Solone coughed, her eyes watering.

'_A bona fide gentleman,'_ Lucius mused, cringing at the informality. '_Seems Father banished him to that world only for him to adopt their wayward customs and conduct such rudeness.'_

"Oh, you're oblivious to the term? I was born without a trace of magic in my blood. It's entitled me worthless to each of those arses in there. Frankly, I was surprised Lucius' wife asked for my attendance, but I've that figured out now." Karberos hinted that his brother's marriage was on rocks. Narcissa had always acted disdainful towards him in their very few previous encounters, whereas in today's she'd enlightened him to her awkward sensual touch. "How long have you been cleaning up after these people? You know my brother has an elf for what he's putting you through?"

"Dobby, yes, but they are paying me more than what's sufficient to live on." Solone studied this blond. He was taller, broader, and older than her boss by about five to eight years and a beige five (or perhaps seven) o'clock shadow darkened his cheeks. His blue-gray eyes mirrored Lucius', but were narrower and his platinum hair was wavy and cropped unlike the other's sleek length that ran down his back.

The route this conversation would shift for was disadvantageous, she swiftly calculated, judging the grossly interested expression he was displaying for her.

"Are he and the wife friendly to you?"

"They are." She could never look people in the eyes when she lied. It was a habit she had to fix.

"Oh? Well, I have my reasons to believe differently…" He smiled big. "Luce ought to rid his rubbish better. That receipt from Gladrags is impressionable," he snickered.

'_Shite!' _The eavesdropper cursed his carelessness, subsequently fixating on why the living filth was snooping in the den's garbage bin to begin with…

"He and Cissa's marriage must be unshakable still, even after their fourteen or so years, but I wouldn't have imagined she can squeeze into extra small lingerie. Drake sized her up to a healthy medium, I'd say."

"...Their marital activities are none of my business, mister," she said with newly flushed cheeks. "I do not know what you are getting at-"

"Cissa rubbed up on me like a needy downtown slum London prostitute, too."

"...O-kay, but what do I-"

"I have money. Not the load Lucius has, but-"

"That'll do, Karberos!" Lucius had come to his wit's end.

Either gaped, looking around confusedly. "The fuck are you?" Karberos muttered like the uncouth Muggle lowlife he basically was.

"Disillusionment charm, and as it turns out, I have a more than sufficient excuse to sport it!" Lucius neared them hotly. "Solone, indoors."

She obeyed graciously, scurrying off at the momentum of a cat-hounded mouse. The younger brother focused daggers on the grimy squib. "What. The. Devil?"

"You've tired of your wife, so you garnered yourself a walking cliche," Karberos scoffed, staring through Lucius' chest.

"I beg your pardon?!" Lucius spat.

"Well, an American Muggle cliche. You catch my drift. Anyhow, I'd like to buy the Puerto Rican from you. It gets lonely back at my flat since Gabrielle's left me."

"Weren't you two engaged?" The Pureblood wasn't genuinely concerned, but he had to kill the other's notable arousal for _his_ property. "What went askew?"

Karberos shrugged. "Woke up one morning and the bitch was gone, as was all her shite. Shattered my sodding heart, she did. Now that honey in there? She resembles her. You'd see that if you'd agreed to visit me when I asked."

"You're a dud, Karberos. I nor my son and wife want diddly to do with you." Lucius was urged to defend his maid's honor as the idiotic Mudblood-equivalent was incorrect on her race. "Solone is Latin-American, for your information."

"The cliche still stands," Karberos laughed.

"But this discussion does not. Do escort yourself from my estate and Wiltshire in its entirety and crawl back to that seedy, overprivileged land of basketcases."

"Lucius, it beats me why she stays here taking your abuse, but I will not vacate unless she comes back with me. You've her locked to another of your twisted ultimatums, aye? I won't treat her like the floozy item you do." His right index finger went to jab the collar of Lucius' robe, but missed as he'd sidestepped it. "How much? I'll have my whole retirement savings converted into those, what do you call them, galleons-"

The wizard's foot thwacked the other's left shin with ferocity that would doozy the practical Muggle's flesh good and long. Karberos yelped, clutching his panging calf while stumbling backward, cursing expletives nastier than what Lucius would in his throes of jacking-off to musings of a pornographic Solone.

"Scram before I retrieve my blasted wand, you pathetic excuse of an existence. Miss Lourdes is not on the market, nor will she ever be! Hypocritical scoundrel. Deeming me the abuser when you're meaning to _purchase_ her off me." A dab of saliva splashed against Karberos' forehead. "OUT!"

"I shall return, brethren!" Karberos hissed, crushing his cigarette into the fine granite flooring.

"You'd be of at least puny intelligence just to not cross into this world once more."

"She doesn't belong in this peculiar and discriminatory place! She's too decent for the likes of you!"

"You barely know her. You met her not two minutes ago."

"I'm not afraid of your magic, Lucius!"

"You should be. I should've Kedavra'd you years ago just for shaming the Malfoy line with your embarrassing deficiency, you impure muck. Now if you don't remove your malignant hooves from my-"

"I'm gone! I'm gone! But when this 'perfect' realm of yours falls apart, I'll kick your teeth in if you dare to grovel at my feet."

"Likewise."

Karberos limped off in the opposite direction for the hedges, then onwards for the gates. Apparently the reach Narcissa would go for a divorce was nothing to be underestimated. Lucius would gladly loosen their tetherings had it not been for their poorly constructed prenup. What could he say? They were in their mid-twenties and devastatingly in love. Pureblood Aristocrat and Pureblood Countess they were. Future separation wasn't a _slight_ possibility in their young and foolish eyes, but as time would tell, reality dawned. Regrettably so? He wouldn't say that. If anything, his love for the wife was dying.


End file.
